The Echoes Say
by dfastback68
Summary: In which Blackout saves the universe, Bonecrusher becomes the Allspark, Brawl has rotten luck, and Barricade wants to kill them all. It’s not as funny as it sounds.
1. Chapter 1: Blank Page

When he'd landed in Mission City, the scene was nothing but pure chaos. Humans were running in all directions, driven by panic and fear. He had arrived during a slight lull, the military humans scrambling to regroup even as the Decepticons recollected themselves. Starscream had barked at him to get moving, but the Seeker flew out of range for no reason that the Pave Low could fathom. Brawl was barely managing to get back up, his severed arm sparking as he rerouted all available power to his weapons systems. It was a matter of waiting for Megatron's command to attack, words that Blackout had dreamed for millennia to hear again. The Autobots were working with the humans to put together a plan, having found out first hand that hiding the Cube in a city was a terrible idea. It wasn't like the Decepticons were going to pull their punches to avoid harming humans. The virus that Frenzy had planted had done its job, the confusion and lack of instantaneous communication spread the human military thin.

Still, they were inventive, creative little maggots, and more than one of them knew what to do when the standard protocols failed. The short distance radios were crude, but effective. Well, not entirely as effective as they'd hoped, considering they had drawn Starscream directly to their whereabouts within the city. They thought they could hide in the maze of buildings and streets, conceal the Cube when its power was a beacon in and of itself. All of them could feel it, and Blackout had no doubt that was why Brawl was not dead yet. To be _that_ close meant failure was out of the question. One of the human soldiers on the radio was confirming air support, something that amused Blackout to no end. Did they not realize those crude radios were heard by _everyone_?

From his perch, Blackout surveyed the scene below, watching as the humans strapped the yellow scout to another vehicle. What purpose did that serve? He would be dead before long, if not from one of them then his injuries would do him in. While they struggled, he listened in on the humans' radio conversations again. It was a simple plan: the Black Hawks had only to follow the signal flare on the rooftop of a nearby building, and retrieve the 'precious cargo'. It was a laughably desperate plan of action. The thought of mere Black Hawks escaping with the Cube was insane. If not himself or Starscream, Megatron would tear them from the sky to retrieve the Allspark.

In the distance, there was the familiar _whupwhupwhup_ of incoming helicopters, and Blackout shifted on his lookout. The fragile concrete chipped and broke under his hands and feet, but he paid it no mind. He made himself busy scanning the Black Hawks from a distance, noting the number of the crew and their positions. The helo briefly considered shooting them down, but at that moment Megatron called for the attack. Blackout didn't need to be told twice, and the black mech completed his shift, Pave Low downgrading to a Black Hawk. He leapt from the rooftop, blades spinning to life, ready to intercept the weapons specialist and medic.

* * *

_Sam's lungs burned as he ran up the stairs. He had enough terrible memories of torment during gym class during his life, but this sure as hell beat all of them. The running itself was bad enough, but having a giant evil alien robot chasing him sure set it apart from other experiences. He was never happier to reach the rooftop, hope rising in his throat as he heard the rhythmic thrumming of helicopters. Slamming the butt of the flare against the wall, he started screaming with a voice he was surprised he still had. He saw the shadow of two Black Hawks from the opposite side of the building, running as fast as his legs would carry him to the edge of the rooftop._

_Everything ran in slow motion; like a sunrise breaking the darkness of an endless night, a third Black Hawk rose up in front of him. One of the crew leaned forward when he saw him, hands stretched out for the Cube. It was all Sam could do to thrust it in front of him, wanting to drop the alien artifact so badly. The second the soldier's hands were on the cube, Sam knew something was wrong. He should have known better than to just run blindly forward like that. In retrospect, there were a _lot_ of things wrong with the entire situation. He had seen Starscream on an adjacent building, but the F-22 had not attacked. He had seen the two Black Hawks come from the other direction, and the arrival of a third seemed suddenly out of place. _

_So many tiny details added up far too late, the biggest clue being the surge of energy that came from the Cube the moment the soldier touched it. The power nearly shorted out the hologram, but the faux soldier jerked the Cube backwards into the Black Hawk. Sam had tried desperately to hold on, but the shock from the Cube rattled him, and the hologram's harsh movement caused him to pitch forward. The Black Hawk's crew vanished, and it folded in on itself to transform to its root mode. Landing heavily on the rooftop, Blackout's feet crushed the edge, and the bricks came out from under Sam. The Decepticon staggered forward as its foothold crumbled, finding even ground while Sam was sent into a freefall. _

_The terror of falling and dying paled into comparison to what he felt when he realized the Decepticons now had the Allspark. The rooftop exploded as Megatron burst through the ceiling, but Sam was already gone, hurtling to the death he knew he deserved._

_

* * *

_

It had been the moment Blackout would have waited for ten lifetimes to experience. The organic child was clueless as to what was about to happen, implicitly trusting what he saw with his eyes. The human soldiers had done him great disservice, sending him in blind and with no backup whatsoever. There was no one to warn him, no one to tell him there had only been two Black Hawks inbound. He doubted it would have mattered if he hadn't mimicked the other aircraft; how many civilian humans would have known the difference between a Pave Low and a Black Hawk? Still, he was glad he'd taken the small precaution, in case the boy had an ounce of intelligence.

Rid of the child and with the Allspark in his hands, Blackout found himself in a unique position. Moments after landing, Megatron had finally fought his way through the confines of the building. Frustrated by the irritating chase, Megatron's reward was his most loyal of soldiers, waiting to deliver his objective. Blackout did not hesitate, and Megatron had the Cube from him in a manner of seconds. He would never, _never_ admit to that brief moment, that strong desire to keep the Cube. It was the first time he'd ever touched the artifact, and it felt good to hold. However, he still believed stronger mechs than he were meant to wield its power, and it felt better to pass that responsibility back to Megatron.

The smallest turn of events promised Blackout a very bright future indeed. It secured him his position next to Megatron, a far higher rank than he'd ever managed to achieve. No one would dispute Megatron, no one would dispute _him_, and he wouldn't have to listen to another agonizing screech from the treacherous Raptor. Starscream had remained on the other building for longer than Blackout cared, but eventually the Air Commander came to join his esteemed leader. Blackout would have liked to have killed the jet right then and there, but he would leave it to Megatron. The Decepticon leader would have more than ample opportunity to discover Starscream's treachery, and punish him appropriately.

The Autobots and their comrades had fled in short order, far more quickly than any of the Decepticons thought possible. The city was already being evacuated, but it hardly mattered. Megatron was not concerned with the wanton destruction of the city, nor of using the Cube to transform the surrounding machines into warriors. Where the Autobots had gotten _that_ idea was beyond the Black Hawk, but Megatron had no need for new, brainless warriors. Blackout had proved ultimately loyal, and the same could be said for Brawl, were he not half dead in the middle of the café. They had lost contact with Bonecrusher and Barricade, and Starscream was sent out to find and retrieve them. It did not escape Blackout how furious the Seeker had been to be used for such menial work, but he could not dispute their leader. Megatron needed experienced soldiers, not uncontrollable drones brought to life by a mere spark of energy from the Cube.

Blackout had wondered if Megatron would leave the fallen to rot; they had, after all, failed at defeating the Autobots. It was certainly not compassion that drove Megatron to revive them. The reinstated leader _needed_ them, at least, for the time being. The Cube was used to its fullest potential, restoring Brawl, Bonecrusher, Frenzy and Barricade in short order. Before leaving the city, Megatron ensured that the Autobot second in command was left in the middle of the street, lifeless and broken. Should the Autobots return to the evacuated city, they wouldn't have to look far to find their dead. It was a mockery they all took far too much pleasure in, but they were drunk with their victory.

Starscream was the only one that did not show any emotion over the spectacle, though Megatron was far from celebratory. Blackout knew there was a simple reason behind it: he had been iced down for so long he was going to need time to sort everything out. The Black Hawk would be ready to do anything for Megatron, to tell him everything. He could barely hide his surprise when the Decepticon leader had dismissed him, not wanting to hear anything. Blackout did not understand what the problem was; Megatron gave them all their orders, but to Blackout he gave no instruction at all. It was somewhat disorienting, but Megatron simply told him to do what he pleased, but be available when he was needed.

The first thing Blackout had done with his newfound, exulting freedom was to fly directly back to Qatar. He still needed to find Scorponok, knowing the drone was injured and hurting somewhere in the desert. He'd had to break off his search in order to fight in Mission City, but now he had all the time in the world. _How_ the resilient little drone had gotten so far off course was something he could worry about later. With the Allspark in Megatron's hands, it was difficult to not feel invincible. Distance put his mind at ease, guessing the dismissal he'd gotten was as close to a reward as he was going to get. He would use the time to track his drone, and then return to Megatron's side immediately. Certainly by then the Decepticon leader would have formulated a suitable plan for their triumphant return to Cybertron.

When he had found the scorpion, it was far more damaged than Blackout had previously thought. The drone whined and keened, dragging its broken tail in the sand, claws whirring slowly as Blackout landed. It had certainly seen better days, but he did not worry for it. Besides, despite its injuries, Scorponok instantly let him know that it did _not _like the Black Hawk disguise. The Pave Low was much, much more comfortable. Blackout would have gladly scanned another one to please the symbiote, if they came across one on the way back. Scorponok's attitude assured the black mech that it was perfectly fine, even though its mangled tail made it hurt. Still, the trip back to the United States was almost euphoric for the both of them.

Even in its current state, the little drone burst with excitement and energy at the news of their ultimate success. There was a swell of pride, a strange emotion from the symbiote, at knowing its master had been the one to end the battle so spectacularly. Through the link, Blackout had soothed the scorpion with promises of a full recovery with the power of the Cube. Scorponok could feel the rush the Black Hawk had gotten from holding the artifact, if even only for a few moments. It was fairly brimming with glee as the west coast finally came into sight.

Blackout still could not wrap his processors around how things had completely fallen apart after that flight. In his absence, _something_ had happened. As soon as he was over dry land, he came under fire from none other than Barricade. The police cruiser had been lurking in the warehouses by the docks, and Blackout had to give him credit for catching him off guard. Once Blackout landed, Barricade was on him again, quickly thrown back by one swipe from the Black Hawk. The hunter did not relent, advancing again as Blackout struggled to determine _why_ he was being attacked by his comrade.

Paranoia and pride conjectured that the Mustang was jealous, and that he wanted the glory that Blackout had brought himself. It was insane: Barricade could not hope to overpower the Black Hawk, who flung him away into a nearby warehouse without flinching. Blackout was vaguely aware of the humans in the area, all scrambling in fear and terror of what was happening. He ignored them in favor of preparing for Barricade's next attack, claws going straight for his chest. Blackout deflected his crazed strikes, annoyed and growing increasingly angry at the erratic behavior. The interceptor came back at him with his flail swinging, forcing the Black Hawk back before he lost an appendage.

He didn't want to kill Barricade without knowing what was making him do this, but the interceptors attacks made that hard to do. Trying to buy them both time, Blackout backed out onto the docks, rear rotors spinning to try and keep the mustang at bay. He calculated how to incapacitate the other 'Con, when Scorponok suddenly dumped a frantic message on him. Frenzy had uploaded a file to the other drone, a nearly untraceable transmission that likely saved their lives. The hacker gave the scorpion an entire update, which it wasted no time in relaying to Blackout instantly: _Megatron is dead Megatron is dead Starscream killed Megatron Starscream has the Allspark Starscream killed Bonecrusher Starscream ordered Barricade to kill us Barricade doesn't want to kill us Barricade must attack to fool Starscream We have to Escape We have to Escape Escape!_

Blackout had very little time to digest the news his symbiote had just dumped on him, faltering somewhat over what he had just learned. He had even less time to consider his actions, as Barricade advanced on him after pausing for far longer than was necessary. The helo swung his arm, rotor blades narrowly missing the Mustang as he lunged. Blackout made his swing far too wide, exposing himself in what would have been a fatal error. Barricade was on him in an instant, hydraulic claws crushing his armor as they collided. The force of the attack sent them both toppling off the dock, Blackout wrapping his arms around the smaller Con to trap him. The cold water was a shock, but he held tight, ignoring the throbbing pain in his chassis from Barricade's hands.

Neither of them let go until they hit the bottom, a plume of sand rising around them as fish scattered out of the way. Barricade released his claws, retreating from the Black Hawk as he managed to push himself upright. They both looked up toward the surface, knowing their small fight was over, but they had another long fight ahead of them. Starscream may or may not be satisfied that they had killed each other. Whatever his plans were, the F-22 would eventually send someone to retrieve or locate their bodies. Blackout ejected Scorponok, who thrashed pitifully in the salt water until it adjusted properly, sending it out ahead to plot their path. It was long, grueling walk along the shoreline, but they had no other choice. They had to disappear to escape Starscream, and, quite possibly, Brawl. Barricade had no idea what had happened to the tank.

After several miles, Scorponok led them up the edge of the dropoff, satisfied it had discovered a safe point of exit for them. They emerged in a relatively secluded area, covered by trees, but a busy roadway could be heard not too far from them. Splitting up had been their only option. There was no place for a Black Hawk on the interstate, and Blackout simply did not have the capacity to carry anything heavier than a medium sized drone like Scorponok. They agreed on a rendezvous point, and parted ways. Blackout did his best not to stew over what, exactly, had just happened. It didn't help that Scorponok was sending the most miserable emotions over their link. The drone was still in bad shape, the salt water stinging its injuries and resolve crushed by overwhelming disappointment.

The Black Hawk showered water down on everything he flew over until he was dry, frequently changing directions in case he was being tailed. It was ludicrous, he knew, trying so hard to evade an enemy he wasn't positive existed. Starscream had gone from an annoyance to a credible threat, and the fates of the other two warriors were worrisome. Blackout began tracking southeast for awhile, watching the roadways below and making wide circles around any military establishments. If any other Decepticons were going to come after them, they would likely stick to where they wouldn't stand out. Moments before he was to change direction again, he picked up a faint, barely detectable Decepticon distress signal.

Two things came to mind: Barricade had gotten himself into trouble, or one of the others was setting a trap. The fact that it might be a _genuine_ distress call ranked low in the list of possibilities, but he followed it nonetheless. It was nowhere near their agreed upon rendezvous point, but that didn't mean Barricade wasn't shaking up his trail as well. Blackout followed the signal to its source, made easier when it was flagged by a plume of black smoke. There, he found Bonecrusher, not in much better shape than he'd been when Prime had gotten through with him. It was remarkable, if not miraculous, that the Constructicon was alive. How long he would remain alive was up for debate.

The Buffalo mine sweeper had not taken to Starscream's coup, and he had paid the price for it dearly. Blackout found it morbidly hilarious that after months of inactivity, Bonecrusher had managed to get himself killed twice in one day. Well, he wasn't gone yet, but the prognosis was not looking good. Starscream had clearly aimed for his spark, the blasted, charred metal twisted nearly beyond recognition. The spark chamber itself was exposed, the brilliant blue light flickering as often as it pulsed. He was still conscious when Blackout landed, and had managed to choke out a few key details. After that, he had fallen into stasis lock, possibly permanently.

During his flight inland, paranoia had borne the idea that Barricade had lied to him, and he'd fallen into another terrible trap. Any moment Megatron himself would come streaking out of the sky and shoot him down for his misguided insubordination. He had not questioned Barricade simply because Scorponok had delivered the information, which had come straight from Frenzy. The simplicity and reliability of the drones made lies too easy to detect. Scorponok would have known, if not because Frenzy was a terrible liar to begin with, but it would have sensed the rouse. But Bonecrusher confirmed what had happened with what he said, as well as confirming that Starscream and Brawl had already left the planet.

Blackout should have known Starscream would have a ship waiting on Mars, which made their situation much more dangerous. With the Allspark in his grasp, none of them would dare defy him. If they were discovered to be alive, they would be hunted down by their own faction members. He was not surprised to learn that Brawl had gone along with it. After all, he was likely far too eager to reunite with whoever was left of the other Combaticons. Bonecrusher might have felt the same sentiment, but the Constructicons were well known for their loyalty to Megatron. It was possible Starscream had attacked Bonecrusher first, just as he'd sent Barricade to destroy the Black Hawk without first petitioning to him. Either way, the Constructicons would have very little warning as to what was coming their way.

He felt little sympathy for them, as he was more concerned with losing possible allies against the F-22 Raptor. Keeping Bonecrusher alive would be no easy task, but he had extinguished the fire from his chassis and dragged him to the nearest shelter. There was no telling how abandoned this area truly was, seeing as the humans might have fled after what had happened here. It was impossible to move the Buffalo anywhere else, and Blackout was already going to be late arriving to the agreed rendezvous point to meet Barricade. Radio silence was of the utmost important, and he had killed Bonecrusher's beacon as quickly as he was able. He had no means to repair him now, and this was one of many matters that needed to be discussed with the Mustang.

Blackout left Scorponok behind to guard the mine sweeper, parting with the injured drone reluctantly. It could no doubt care for itself, and it would ward off anything that came near Bonecrusher, but he still hated to leave it again. Not bothering with shaking up his trail, Blackout flew directly to the coordinates. It was in the middle of nowhere, and he had to circle several times before finding a spot to land. Barricade informed him of his tardiness, but was silenced when Blackout told him about Bonecrusher, and what he had said.

Their options were painfully limited. With global communications out, and no contact from their own forces, they were blind as to what was going on around them. They decided Frenzy was to purge the virus from the humans systems, thus realigning satellites and bringing networks back on line. That would give them access to a great deal more information than they had, as they could easily hack the networks and glean what they needed. The fate of the Autobots was vital to know, as well as what the humans would mobilize to defend themselves. When their communications network was reestablished, the human military would lurch into high gear to get things moving again.

Until they had what they needed, it was a matter of lying low and surviving. Bonecrusher would have to be moved, which would be no small feat. After much deliberation, the pair split up again. Barricade would drop off Frenzy at the nearest terminal he could hack, and proceed to look for a more permanent shelter for them. In the meantime, Blackout would fly back to Bonecrusher, and tend to the Buffalo as best he could. Neither of them was a skilled medic, and knew only the basics of field repairs. Barricade would have an easier time pinpointing a hideout, and Scorponok could still serve as a lookout.

That had been three days ago. Things hadn't improved much from there.


	2. Chapter 2: Crossroads

Blackout stepped outside the abandoned warehouse, glaring into the setting sun as it burned his optics. He could hear Barricade approaching in the distance, engine roaring as the mustang made quick time across the pavement. Frenzy had gone with him on this particular run, and Scorponok was still out patrolling their makeshift shelter. The Black Hawk had no idea what this place used to be to the humans, but they had left it a long time ago. It was relatively secluded, though on a quiet day one could hear the hum of traffic from an interstate. Barricade thought perhaps it was a factory of some sort, if not for the concrete walls surrounding it. It hardly mattered to Blackout; the compound provided the cover that they needed.

Barricade came to a screeching halt in front of him, the air reeking of burnt rubber. His back doors popped open, and Frenzy staggered out, chattering nonsense and taking several moments to get his legs back under him. For a moment, Blackout envied the interceptor and his drone. Though it was far from professional for the mustang to be joyriding simply to entertain his symbiote, it was a small lift in spirits that would keep them both happy. Well, for a short while, anyways. Blackout would have liked to take Scorponok up in the air, give the poor thing a break from its ceaseless patrolling.

"Stealing gasoline is easier at night," Barricade announced, waiting as Frenzy struggled to drag a five gallon jug of the foul smelling liquid out of his back seat. Blackout lifted the jug before Frenzy spilled it everywhere, turning to walk back into the warehouse. Barricade did not follow, since Frenzy was busy unloading the rest of the supplies they had gathered for themselves during their run. He did roll several feet forward, so he could see inside the warehouse. "Well?"

"He couldn't wait until after dark," Blackout replied darkly. The Black Hawk was already manually fueling the injured Buffalo, and Barricade felt a sudden rush of irritation. Blackout occasionally talked about the Constructicon like he knew what he'd wanted, or he'd told him what he needed. Barricade had no intention of giving up on the Buffalo, but the problem was that Bonecrusher was giving up on them every other minute. Given enough time and energy, their systems would mend and heal themselves. It was something the humans had discovered with Scorponok's tail, though its healing process was stunted from the severance.

Bonecrusher, on the other hand, was not healing. His spark guttered and trembled with disturbing frequency. His recharge jacks had been nonresponsive, and, like everything else, needed to be dealt with manually. Hence the need for gasoline, though five gallons would hardly tide him over. Barricade believed it was a small miracle that the Constructicon's systems could even convert it into anything useful, considering the rest of him was beyond broken. It was obvious that there was something seriously wrong with him, and it went beyond Starscream simply opening fire on him. The treacherous F-22 had likely used the Cube in his attack, since the injuries were as substantial as they were apparently irreparable.

Barricade finally walked into the warehouse once Frenzy was done unloading, leaving the hacker to take it inside. He stood over Blackout while the helicopter shook the last drops of gasoline into Bonecrusher's tank, before setting it aside and getting back to what he was doing. The process was nearly impossible to get through with the Buffalo's self repair systems being inactive.

"Most of the Autobots are back in California," Barricade said, getting a grunt from the Black Hawk. "They've already figured out what happened to Megatron, since Starscream simply left his body behind. It sounds like Starscream ran into some Autobot interference on Mars as well. They know only Starscream and Brawl arrived."

Blackout did not stop what he was doing, and did not acknowledge what was turning out to be incredibly bad news.

"The scout Bumblebee was sniffing around where Bonecrusher was attacked," Barricade finally finished, watching Blackout's rotors tighten and then relax. "He headed in the opposite direction, but that doesn't mean he's not still on our trail."

That meant they were going to have to move again. It would be incredibly dangerous for Bonecrusher, considering how long it had taken to get him here in the first place. Dragging him wherever they went put his life in jeopardy, but it wasn't as though they had choice. The last thing they needed to deal with was a pack of meddlesome Autobots, and Barricade was paranoid the ones from Mars would want to meet up with Prime. That left them ridiculously outnumbered, with no real plan of action.

"We should consider cutting our losses," Barricade said slowly, watching the Black Hawk carefully. "The longer we stay here, the further away Starscream gets, and the more Autobots show up."

Blackout's rotors tightened again, and Barricade raised his head, waiting for the explosion of anger. Of course the Black Hawk would resent being told what to do by a subordinate, but Barricade had been biting his tongue for several days now. He didn't want to give up on the other 'Con either, but Bonecrusher was _not_ improving. The thought of leaving him behind was surprisingly disturbing to the interceptor. They had no way of knowing if Bonecrusher was suffering, if he was aware at all, or if the stasis lock was functioning as it should. Even that was doubtful, since the Buffalo occasionally stirred, and on more than one occasion made a sound. Neither of these were good things when a mech was supposed to be in stasis lock. If leaving him to die was out of the question, then it came down to who would put him out of his misery.

It was easy for Barricade to decide: Blackout had worked far too hard to bring him back to have to be responsible for that. It wouldn't be the first time the mustang had crushed a spark in his hands, but he always done what was necessary to survive. If he could spend centuries sucking up to Starscream to keep his head on his shoulders, he could certainly do this. All he needed was Blackout's consent, and to wait for the Black Hawk to leave. It would be quick, far better than what Starscream had left him to deal with, though he believed the F-22 fancied he had killed the Buffalo. Foolish, impulsive Starscream, using the Cube without any of the knowledge of how it worked!

Of course, they had their own version of the Cube walking around in Frenzy's processor. He'd downloaded everything from the Sector Seven database, from agent profiles to a comprehensive list of real or imagined NBE's. The humans, in all their misplaced inquisitiveness, had made a remarkable map of the Cube itself. It told them more about it than they had gleaned in centuries of lost tales and speculation. The blueprints were useless to them, however. Drawings and scans did not give them the power they needed to heal Bonecrusher. There was nothing on earth that could help him. Even if the Autobot medic agreed to repair him, there was no guarantee it would do any good at all. Despite the repairs, he was simply not getting any better. It left the Black Hawk on the very edge of making a decision he'd been putting off for days.

They had exhausted all possible avenues, opportunities and possibilities. Bonecrusher's fate, after all, was death. Blackout knew it was the most logical thing to do, as it would free them to concentrate on what they needed to get done. Still, he had hoped for Bonecrusher's revival. If the other Constructicons survived, the mine sweeper would be pivotal in recruiting them towards resisting Starscream. Starscream would no doubt tell them he was dead, and if Blackout had managed to save him, they would be indebted. It was manipulative, but the Black Hawk wanted to secure their loyalty. Instead, he was going to have to tell them he could only end his suffering, and his failure would make him a less appealing leader.

Blackout leaned back from Bonecrusher, looking up at the interceptor. The smaller Con seemed to be expecting something violent from the Black Hawk, but Blackout did not have the anger in him right now. They stared at one another for a moment, before the Black Hawk turned to look back outside, then back down at Bonecrusher.

"I can do it," Barricade said delicately, watching Blackout lumber to his feet. The Black Hawk shifted his stance uncomfortably, blades flaring then settling.

"Then make it quick," he said flatly, turning sharply on his heel and stalking outside of the warehouse. He wasn't certain what made him more ill at ease: killing his comrade, or completely failing in his task. He hated failing, and it seemed to be a feeling that was lingering in his tanks lately. Qatar had been an enjoyable rampage of destruction that both he and Scorponok had reveled in. Despite that, he had not retrieved the data he'd wanted, and the pleasure of the massacre drained out of him completely. It was made worse when Scorponok had been seriously injured by the surviving humans.

Blackout was intent on _not_ listening to what happened inside the warehouse, when a rather surprising distraction flew straight at him. Scorponok had returned from its patrol, but it was running a complete panic. Blackout suddenly realized he hadn't heard anything from his symbiote in several hours, and that was highly unusual. He had completely missed the absence of his drone in his obsession with Bonecrusher's repairs. It leapt onto his front desperately, legs scratching and clambering until it had a decent hold on its master even as he held it up with arms.

The information it had gathered came in a frantic burst. Barricade had been followed, but not by the Autobot scout. Scorponok had seen the pursuer on multiple occasions, but had not been convinced it was a threat until now. When it realized what was happening, the drone found it could not communicate with Blackout. Something was jamming their connection, and there were _few_ things capable of doing that. Panicked, Scorponok had run straight back to the base, regretting going out so far from its master. Loosening his grip, Blackout turned to tell Barricade they were leaving immediately, but there was a sudden howl of pain from inside the warehouse. The Black Hawk dropped Scorponok, instantly charging his weapons and running to the warehouse door. Scorponok followed with its claws ready, both of them expecting an attack from the interloper the drone had seen –

They both stopped dead, weapons stuttering in shock at what they saw. Bonecrusher's chest was wide open, his spark still pulsing brightly, though the wiring around it sparked dangerously. Barricade had retreated several steps, fingers twitching as both his hands smoked from the burns they'd received. They all stared at Bonecrusher, Scorponok chirping uneasily as the Buffalo's armor reclosed and sealed itself shut, cutting off the bright glow of his spark.

"I think," Barricade said, shaking his stinging hands. "That we have a problem."

"We have to leave," Blackout said, not arguing with Barricade's assessment. He had no idea what had just happened with Bonecrusher, but he knew that their hideout was compromised. "Now. Scorponok said you were followed by someone else."

"What?" Barricade looked taken aback by that. He _knew_ the scout had left the area, though it wasn't a sure bet he wouldn't be around sooner rather than later. Besides that, he looked down at Bonecrusher. "But –"

"I'm not so concerned about Bonecrusher anymore," Blackout said, retracting his weapons and looking down at Scorponok. It was an unspoken command, and the drone instantly jumped on his back, locking itself into its cache and connecting with ease. "We're going to leave him for right now. Have Frenzy remain with him, _hidden_, and watch the warehouse. Whoever followed you managed to interrupt the connection between myself and Scorponok, so he might be on his own until we get back."

"When do we get back?" Barricade asked, wasting no time in transforming and rolling out of the warehouse. Frenzy scurried out of his drivers' side window, looking towards the roof as a possible spot to hide out. Blackout pulled the garage door down, though it did little to conceal Bonecrusher. Anyone could look in the windows and see what was inside.

"I'll contact you when it's safe to come back," Blackout replied, transforming smoothly at the same time his rotors spun to life. Barricade knew an 'I don't know' when he heard one, but he didn't call the Black Hawk out on it.

"And if someone goes after Bonecrusher?" Barricade asked over the comlink, the roar of the helicopter and his own engine making any other communication impossible. He supposed it didn't matter if someone killed Bonecrusher, considering they'd been about to do that themselves. Except…

"It seems to me he can protect himself," Blackout replied dryly. After that, they fell silent, with Barricade barreling towards the rear entrance of the compound. Blackout vanished over the treetops, and the interceptor cast one last look behind him. Frenzy would hold his own, he was certain of that. With any luck, he'd get a positive ID of their pursuer, and they would know what they were truly up against.

* * *

Frenzy had only to wait for three hours before something stirred on the deserted compound. The stereo had settled himself down on the rooftop, wedging into the most inconspicuous spot he could find. There were a lot of blind spots from his position, but his audio sensors would still hear something moving around. Besides, if it came from the back, he knew he was quiet enough to catch a glimpse. Blackout had not had the forethought to tell him what Scorponok had seen, and all he knew was that it _wasn't_ the Autobot scout.

There was a glimmer of light at the compound entrance, the setting sun reflecting off of a clean windshield. The vehicle rolled in cautiously, obviously aware that the area was supposed to be occupied. A high performance engine purred under the hood, and Frenzy shifted through his memory banks to see if he had the car's model on file. Barricade had gone through numerous choices before settling on his current disguise, though Frenzy had been more than happy to help him research. The humans had a knack for designing impressive cars, even if their technology was still rather lackluster. It took only a moment for him to find a match: Lamborghini, an Italian line of expensive, high profile sports cars.

Frenzy watched as it approached the building slowly, keeping its distance at the same time. Its frame was splattered with dirt and mud, turning an otherwise white paint job a ruddy brown. The windshield wipers had done their job, but the rest of it was less than appealing to look at it. Frenzy guessed it had driven a long way from wherever it came from, and he wished it would go _back_ to where it came from. The way it drove was not consistent with how humans maneuvered their vehicles, and it was blocking even the subtlest of scans Frenzy tried on it. The Lamborghini pulled up in front of the warehouse, appraising it. It shifted slightly, and then activated a scanner, sweeping over the interior of the warehouse. When the scan was complete, the Lamborghini jerked backwards violently.

Throwing caution to the wind, the sports cars' tires squealed as it reversed. It whipped around quickly, knocking down a stack of crates as it did so, and then sped off. The engine practically screamed as it tore across the pavement, all of that careful sneaking about completely abandoned. It was out of sight rather quickly, but Frenzy could still hear the distant screech of tires when it turned. Curious, and somewhat concerned about Bonecrusher, Frenzy transformed and climbed down the side of the building. He peered into the nearest window, seeing Bonecrusher's inert form lying on the floor. He hadn't moved. In fact, Frenzy saw nothing out of place whatsoever.

Thoroughly confused by the encounter, the hacker climbed back up to his perch and folded into his alt mode. He was still for a moment, waiting to see if the Lamborghini would come back. All that could be heard now was the distant highway, so he attempted to radio Barricade.

"_Report_," the interceptor responded immediately, much to Frenzy's relief. Whatever had been jamming the connection between Blackout and Scorponok had either left, or did not work on them.

"_White Lamborghini, definitely Cybertronian,_" Frenzy said in a rush, at the same time uploading a picture to the interceptor. "_Snuck up, scanned Bonecrusher, and then took off in a hurry. It blocked all of _my_ scans_."

"_Standby, I'll contact Blackout,_" Barricade responded shortly, leaving Frenzy in silence once again. It most likely wasn't any of the Autobots, and one of Starscream's underlings would have undoubtedly plowed in to finish off Bonecrusher. Frenzy raked it over in his mind again and again, hoping the others would be able to use what he'd seen. He nearly fell off the roof in surprise when Barricade radioed him back. "_Blackout hasn't got a damn clue either. Your orders are to stay put, and one of us will be there in a few hours._"

Barricade severed the connection without waiting for a response, which Frenzy thought was wise. The longer they left their links open, the greater their risk of being compromised. He resisted the entirely inappropriate urge to tune into a local radio station, knowing Barricade would drop kick him for goofing off. Checking a sigh, the hacker was resigned to a long, boring evening.

* * *

It was well after dark by the time Blackout arrived at the warehouse. Frenzy immediately ran to greet him, chattering endlessly about nonsense even as Scorponok disconnected from the Black Hawk. Nothing else had come near the compound, and Barricade was on the hunt for new hideout. Blackout decided to wait inside of the warehouse, watching over the prone Bonecrusher. He didn't want to try repairs in the dark, especially not after Barricade had managed to get burned by the Buffalo. There were still faint, erratic life signs, but it seemed the Constructicon was not giving up on them as easily as they'd first thought. At a half past two in the morning, Barricade suddenly radioed in.

"_Don't respond_," was his first command. "_I'm being followed again, and not by the Autobot scout _or_ the Lamborghini. There are at least two others on me. Obviously, I can't find anything for us while I'm being tailed, and I'm not leading them back to you. I'll contact you again once I've ditched them._"

That left Blackout alone to figure out what to do with Bonecrusher. It also left him alone with his paranoia. At_ least_ two others? That meant three or more new players were in the field, and for all he knew, one of them was watching him right now. He thought twice about sending Scorponok out to patrol again, and instantly called the drone back to the warehouse. He was thankful that the connection wasn't being blocked, but he wasn't optimistic. As soon as Scorponok was back, he ordered it back into its cache, and the drone gladly complied. He did not worry in the least about Frenzy, knowing the stereo would stick close.

Blackout looked down at Bonecrusher, considering. It hardly mattered where he moved him to at this point, so long as it was devoid of human presence. The process was not going to be easy, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about the Buffalo falling apart on the way. Truth be told, he was more hesitant to touch him after what had happened to Barricade. It had made no sense whatsoever, and he didn't want to find out if it would happen again. Blackout spent so long weighing his options that Scorponok had to alert him of something suspicious occurring not far outside the compound. On edge from Barricade's report, Blackout instantly charged his weapons, looking out from the rolling doors.

He kept the power on his weapons low, straining to hear what Scorponok had reported. It was the sound of a large engine idling, just on the other side of the brick wall that separated the compound from the roadways. Blackout remained crouched down inside the warehouse, keeping his sensors hyper alert. It was probably just some late night trucker, needing somewhere to sleep for the night. Of course, considering their luck, he was more than convinced it was Prime or his weapon specialist waiting out there for him. He would probably have to leave Bonecrusher behind again; he did not want to start a fight with any of the Autobots right now.

Before he could make a decision, the unseen vehicle rumbled louder, hydraulics hissing as it moved into gear. Blackout shifted his stance, trying to his hide bulk as best he could without losing sight of the gates. Headlights illuminated the gap in the wall, and a truck pulled into sight, easily pushing the fence aside to gain entry to the compound. It wasn't Prime – not unless he'd decided to take on a new model of semi. This one was hauling a trailer, lumbering around the guardhouse and driving into the compound itself. Blackout tensed as the fog lights flashed over him, lighting up the warehouse as the semi made a turn towards them.

The truck moved slowly, deliberately, as if knowing any quick motions would spook its prey. It made another turn, this time heading straight for them. Its lights filled the warehouse, and Blackout knew it had come for them. He raised his arms, cannons charging to defend himself -

"Point that goddamn thing somewhere else!" the truck snapped, air brakes screeching as it came to a stop. "And quit skulking in that fucking warehouse!"

Blackout was struck speechless, recognizing the Decepticon even as he began to transform. The semi's engine cut off, and the cab folded in on itself. The trailer split down the middle, twisting and reforming until a mech that was as tall and wide as he was stood before him. He had all of Prime's imposing height and stature, only with twice the armor thanks to his trailer. The chopper walked out from inside the warehouse, lowering his weapons, but not letting down his guard completely. The last time he had seen _this_ mech, he and his crew were being exiled by Megatron himself.

"That's better," the black and grey 'Con rumbled, dimming the fog lights on his chest.

"I was under the impression that you were dead," Blackout said, ignoring Scorponok's urgent plea to be released. He could hear Frenzy skittering on the rooftop, and a flicker of the other mech's optics indicated he knew what was up there as well.

"That so?" the 'Con snorted. "How was the fucking funeral?"

"You –" Blackout started, blades flaring out in agitation.

"Forget it," the mech interrupted him. "With Megatron dead and Starscream running around with the Allspark, we've got bigger goddamn problems. Where should we start?"

"Well, Motormaster," Blackout said, addressing the Stunticon leader formally. "_You_ can start with explaining just what you're doing on Earth."

* * *

Barricade was starting to get worried. At first, he had been mildly annoyed when he realized he was being followed. It was a grey sports car this time, and it completely failed his lofty standards of stealth and subterfuge. The driver (if there was one) was seemingly out of their mind, the vehicle swerving to and fro at the drop of a dime. There were few other human drivers at this time of night, but there were enough to sound their horns when the gray car wound up in their lane. There were a lot of curses about fancy cars and crappy drivers, but Barricade had managed to ditch the lusterless Ferrari rather quickly.

He had found what he thought was a suitable area to relocate to when he discovered that the Ferrari had been nothing more than a distraction. The interceptor barely had time to reverse from his position when a flashy red Porsche came looking for him. This one was a much, _much_ better tracker than the Ferrari, who was last seen driving on the wrong side of traffic. Every time Barricade was confident he had lost the Porsche, he caught a glimpse of it in his rearview mirror. After over an hour of trying to ditch them, Barricade had sent Blackout his message. He wasn't getting anything productive done tonight, so it was up to the Black Hawk to see to Bonecrusher's relocation.

His annoyance grew when the white Lamborghini showed up to join its two companions, though he never saw more than one of them at the same time. He made ample use of his sirens to get through red lights and justify speeding up when it might arouse suspicion, but no matter he did, they were always there. The worry began to settle in when he realized he was being herded. He kept a careful eye on his map, and he was starting to see a pattern. They were forcing him in a particular direction, and panic was becoming an acceptable action as his options of escape shrank with each successive turn. He was expecting the worst, up until the moment he found himself _behind_ the white Lamborghini. _That_ had to be a mistake. They couldn't chase him when they were in front of him, and the other two were nowhere in to be seen.

Feeling that the tides had turned, Barricade flipped on his lights and sped up. The sudden motion caused the white Lamborghini to swerve in surprise, then it took off. Barricade gave chase, feeling much better being the hunter, rather than the hunted. Of course, once they had turned onto an off road, Barricade realized his mistake. He had suddenly become isolated, and the Ferrari and the Porsche suddenly whipped into view in his mirror. Determined to take at least one of them out, Barricade advanced on the Lamborghini, engine growling fiercely as he did so. He was not prepared when the white car hit the brakes, but he was eternally grateful for his bumper guards. The impact was minimal, but it slowed their speed considerably.

Barricade prepared to put the pedal to the metal, as the humans said, and push his pursuer off the road. He would find a way to escape the others when it came to that, but – Barricade had a sudden moment of confusion. The Ferrari and Porsche had stopped dead, which sent a red flag up immediately. No - he was still in the trap! Something underneath the Lamborghini's hood _exploded_, and Barricade briefly registered a complete systems failure before he lost control. The mustang swerved off the road, sliding into the ditch with enough force to roll him several times. When he stopped, he was still on his tires, but he couldn't move. Whatever that blast had been, it had crippled him. It wasn't permanent, as he could already feel auxiliary systems coming back online, but not fast enough to get him out of whatever mess he was currently in. His attempt to radio Blackout was unsurprisingly blocked.

The Lamborghini had stopped, shaking on its shocks for a moment before settling down. There was a distinctive _click _as its hood snapped shut, but other than that it was still. The Porsche and the Ferrari joined the Lamborghini, flanking it as their headlights shone down on Barricade. None of them did anything, and Barricade assumed they were either appraising, or scanning him. Either way, his nerves were literally and figuratively shot by now.

"Well," the red Porsche suddenly drawled out. "That could have gone better."


	3. Chapter 3: Renegade Survivor

"Nineteen fifty-eight?" the question was almost incredulous, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity.

"Nineteen goddamn fifty-eight," came the confirmation, accompanied by a curt nod.

"Why in the Pit have you _stayed_ so long?" Blackout demanded, shifting his blades as he adjusted his posture.

"It was a rough start," Motormaster grunted. The two of them were still outside the warehouse, the Stunticon commander leaning against it with one elbow. Frenzy sat on the pavement between them, twitching from the effort it took to keep his questions to himself. "It wasn't until Lamborghini started competing with Ferrari that we decided to stick around."

Blackout stared at him, and Motormaster realized the Black Hawk had no idea what he was talking about. Hadn't he learned _anything_ about Earth while looking for the Cube?

"We landed in Europe," Motormaster continued. "Once the automotive industry took off, we decided to stick around, and then we just kept moving. Besides, we were pretty damn sure the Allspark was on this dirtball, we just never found it."

"Were you really trying?" Blackout pressed, not liking the dismissive attitude the other 'Con had. Motormaster leveled a flat glare at him, lower jaw grinding for a moment before he answered.

"What was the hurry?" he finally growled. "If we'd shown up on Cybertron with the Cube, would things have turned out any better?"

"You mean anything besides Starscream killing Megatron and taking the Allspark?" Blackout snarled, hands curling into fists. Motormaster considered that.

"Well, can't say I was expecting Megatron to be sitting right next to the Allspark," he said, optics darkening. Blackout wondered if Megatron's presence would have affected his actions, considering the tyrant might have rewarded them with instant death. The only one that knew the particulars of their exile was Megatron himself, after all. "We figured it was on the bottom of the ocean somewhere, since so much of that is unexplored."

"You seem to know a lot about what's happened in the past few days," Blackout decided to continue grilling the Stunticon, knowing Motormaster wasn't going to tell him _everything_ in one sitting. He might come off as a thick headed brute, but he knew first hand that the semi was keener than that.

"We've got the internet, too, you know," Motormaster shrugged. "Not to mention how easy it is to pick out Cybertronian messages from human ones. Some of you guys were broadcasting pretty damn loudly. Your hack job in Qatar gave Breakdown absolute fits –"

"How long?" Blackout interrupted him, not caring to relive the scene in Qatar. He might have overseen Intel operations at one point, but that didn't mean he was the master of quietly hacking alien systems. "How long have you known that we were here?"

_And never said anything_, was the unspoken end to that question. Blackout still saw little reason to trust the Stunticon, even if there was nothing personal between them. The circumstances of their exile had been largely unknown, but Blackout believed Megatron would have had sound reason. He would pry it out of the semi sooner or later, but he was focusing on the present, as well as the future, for now.

"Which one of you stepped on the Mars Rover?" Motormaster answered the Black Hawk with a sarcastic question of his own. "That was pretty fucking stupid."

"Funny," Blackout growled. Whatever else he might have to say was interrupted by the sound of engines, approaching fast.

"About _god_damn time," Motormaster rumbled, pushing away from the warehouse to stand up straight. Headlights danced around the decrepit gates, announcing the arrival of four sports cars. One black and white Mustang, one white Lamborghini, one red Porsche, and one grey Ferrari. Blackout's scans flagged the significance of the Lamborghini and the Ferrari in terms of their previous conversation. All four of them looked like they could use a good wash.

"Fifteen years?" Barricade's agitated voice carried across the compound as the four cars drove closer. The interceptor was having a similar conversation with the other Stunticons, it seemed. "_Fifteen years_?"

"We've spent most of it in Michigan," the white Lamborghini explained. "But we kinda hauled aft once we realized what was going down out here."

"Your timing couldn't be worse," Barricade sneered. As they came closer, it was obvious that the interceptor had been roughed up. Thankfully, it was nothing more serious than dents, scratches, and a wounded pride.

"We never said it was perfect," the red Porsche said flatly. "And it's been _forty-nine_ years. Only fifteen in America."

"You've _got_ to be kidding me," Barricade said, his engine nearly stalling in shock. The four of them came to a stop near Blackout and Motormaster, transforming quickly and spreading out. The interceptor kept close to the Black Hawk, but the Stunticons seemed unconcerned with standing on one side or the other. Typical, Barricade thought. They might have been loyal to Megatron a long time ago, but centuries of freedom would have turned them wilder than they already were.

"I still have no reason to trust any of you," Blackout filled the silence, noticing which mechs tensed, and which ones remained unimpressed. Their names came to him quicker than he thought: Dead End was the Porsche, Breakdown the Lamborghini, and Wildrider the Ferrari. There was one missing, and the Black Hawk wondered if he had perished since their exile from Cybertron. "Stalking us, blocking our transmissions, and attacking Barricade? Was all of that _really_ necessary?"

"Given our history," Dead End said, turning to address the Mustang. "Would you have listened to us if we hadn't rolled you into a ditch?"

"No," Barricade didn't even think about it. "Then again, _you_ I'd be willing to hear out, but if it had been Dragstrip –"

"Where is that slagheap, anyways?" Motormaster cut in, and Blackout had the answer as to whether or not there were still _five_ Stunticons. "He was supposed to radio in _hours_ ago."

"On his way," Breakdown piped up. "He said he ditched Bumblebee in some backwater town in Nevada."

"So he's the reason the scout suddenly turned around and sped off in the opposite direction?" Barricade asked, tilting his head. He had thought it was strange when the Autobot ceased his pursuit. "How did he manage that?"

"You don't want to know," Wildrider said, at the same time Dead End spoke: "You'll find out."

The two Stunticons looked at one another, but neither one of them went into any more detail than that. Barricade gave them an irritated glare, but didn't have the chance to say anything about it.

"Well, _my_ crew's accounted for," Motormaster turned to Blackout. "What about _yours_?"

"If you're talking about my original crew, from back on Cybertron, they're all dead," Blackout said simply. There was not an ounce of remorse in his tone, but he still felt that pang of fury towards the reason behind their termination. He was also aware of how Motormaster had directed the conversation _away_ from the loyalty issue. "At the moment, I have only Barricade, Frenzy, Scorponok and –"

Blackout stopped himself, but it automatically brought the peculiar case of the Constructicon to light. All optics instantly fell on the warehouse.

"You scanned him!" Frenzy suddenly burst out, pointing an accusing finger up at Breakdown, who jumped. "You scanned him and he spooked you!"

The white Lamborghini looked spooked again when Blackout and Barricade turned to stare at him, waiting for an explanation. Breakdown had the most sensitive scanners out of all of them, and Blackout did not doubt he would have been the one that detected the Allspark's energy on this planet. He couldn't help but notice that all of the other Stunticons were looking anywhere but at Breakdown. Irritated, Blackout focused his optics back on the prone form of Bonecrusher, waiting for Barricade to do the same. The interceptor seemed to enjoy making the white Stunticon squirm under his gaze, but eventually he dropped his four optics to look at Frenzy instead.

"There's definitely something wrong with him," Breakdown started. Wildrider opened his mouth, but Motormaster shot him a look that made him shut up. "His energy signature is stable, but it's being masked by a stronger signal. He's most likely not healing because his systems aren't recognizing the signal, going so far as to think its not even there."

"What's the second signal?" Blackout asked, shifting to the side as Motormaster stood in front of the garage door, his fog lights coming to life once again. The interior of the warehouse lit up, Bonecrusher's twisted form visible to all.

"Well…" Breakdown hesitated, looking sidelong at Dead End. The Porsche took that as his cue, stepping forward even as the white 'Con tried to shuffle out of view.

"Watch," the Porsche said simply, lifting his arm and creating a small holographic display. There were three charts before them, looking to be the equivalent of a human ECG. "The one on the left is a normal Cybertronian spark signature. The one in the middle is the signature that the Allspark emits. The one on the right is Bonecrusher's."

Dead End watched as everyone's heads turned in time with each chart, settling on the last one with varying degrees of confusion. To prove his point, the Porsche reached up and collapsed the other two graphs, merging them into one. Next to Bonecrusher's, it was almost an exact match.

"Bonecrusher's spark is being overwritten with Allspark energy," Dead End concluded, sounding entirely uninterested with that development.

"That can't be good," Barricade decided. "I mean, even if we can fix him, will it still be Bonecrusher?"

"Who knows?" Motormaster grunted, resting both his hands on the overhang of the door, leaning against it. He glanced back at Blackout, who was eyeing the prone Constructicon warily. "Starscream used the Cube on him, didn't he?"

"We don't know for certain," Blackout replied, not sure what to do with the information they'd just learned. "But considering the nature of his injuries, we weren't ruling it out. We also discovered that his spark doesn't take to being tampered with directly."

Motormaster chewed on that for a moment, dropping one arm so he could see the Black Hawk better.

"You tried to off him," the Stunticon said flatly. "And he bit back."

"In a matter of speaking," Barricade said darkly. His hands didn't hurt anymore, but they still felt numb from being burned. "So how do we get his systems to start a self repair? No offense, but we don't have a _true _medic among us."

None of the Stunticons looked sorry about their lack of medical training. Dead End had been assigned that position a long time ago, but they'd always managed to fend for themselves. Bonecrusher was clearly beyond basic field repairs, and it was obvious that that was as far as Blackout had gotten on him.

"I don't think his systems are going to believe he's not dead unless they're completely repaired," Motormaster said, pushing away from the warehouse and dimming his lights once again.

"We don't have the equipment," Blackout said, shaking his head. "We don't have that kind of _time_ either."

"He just needs a jump start," Dead End said, as if that would solve the entire situation.

"And I left my jumper cables on Mars," Barricade growled, sneering at the red Porsche. "The Cube is the only thing that could heal him that quickly, and we have no idea how to tap into whatever energy is currently merged with his spark –"

"The isotopes," Blackout interrupted, and Barricade looked up at him, confused. "When we first arrived, the humans tried to lead us into a trap by using isotopes they created from Allspark's energy."

"Oh, you too?" Breakdown asked innocently, cringing as Wildrider raised his arm to shut him up. Blackout filed that away for future reference. Fifty years was a long time to spend on this planet without being detected. Humans were far more clever than they appeared at first glance.

"The energy wasn't genuine, though," Barricade said, looking down at Frenzy in an unspoken command to start filtering through the files he'd stolen. The hacker was already mumbling nonsense to himself as he did so. "But that was several years ago, and humans improve their technology quickly…"

"It's a shot in the dark," Blackout said. "I'm more than ready to get off of this planet, but if Bonecrusher's carrying a part of the Allspark, leaving him is out of the question. Without a medic, this is our best bet."

"March 14th, 2005!" Frenzy suddenly announced, small frame shaking with excitement. "Humans report containment of Allspark energy! Humans store it in safe place! Hoover Dam!"

"Goddammit," Motormaster growled, even as Frenzy's glee deflated when he realized what that meant. "That place has got be crawling with the military by now. Not to mention the possibility that they might move what wasn't destroyed down there."

It still bothered Blackout just how much the Stunticon knew, but now was not the time to press the subject. "What else can we do? We're not going anywhere without Bonecrusher."

Motormaster jerked, looking at Blackout sharply. Barricade tensed, his claws flexing somewhat. Frenzy looked between them, inching behind Barricade's legs just in case something started. The Mustang had been waiting for some sort of power struggle between the two commanders, though the Stunticons were surprisingly relaxed. Were they confident that Motormaster would ultimately lead all of them, or was he missing something?

"So what do you suggest?" Motormaster finally broke the tension with a tactful deflection. That diffused the situation Barricade had been dreading. He did not look forward to defending himself against the Stunticons when he chose the Black Hawk over Motormaster. Blackout did not respond immediately, instead spreading his rotors and letting Scorponok detach. The scorpion scurried around to his other side, keeping its distance from the Stunticons. It looked up at its master, claws whirring in curiosity.

"A more indirect approach," Blackout said simply.

* * *

Gravel crunched beneath tires as a dusty red Porsche pulled off the road, brakes whining as it came to a stop. There was no traffic out on that particular stretch of back road, far from the beaten path tourists took to see the Hoover Dam. The front passenger door popped open, and a massive metallic scorpion wiggled out. As soon as it hit the dirt it rolled on its back, stretching its multiple legs after being crammed into the sports car for _far_ too long. A small silver 'Con jumped out after it, looking around the area with interest. Dead End slammed his door shut, getting the attention of the drones rather quickly.

"In and out," the Porsche reminded them. "As quickly as possible, and with as little damage as possible. The isotopes are your only objective. In and –"

"We get it!" Frenzy interrupted. Did the Stunticon think they were _stupid_? The Porsche was silent, apparently having nothing else to add. Satisfied, Frenzy crawled onto Scorponok's back once it was done rolling around. The armor on the scorpions back cracked open, and Frenzy wedged himself inside the small compartment. The sunlight vanished when the other drone closed its armor, but if he wasn't secure, Scorponok would likely lose the stereo underground. Claws grinding to life, Scorponok dove into the rock, vanishing out of the sight in a manner of moments.

Frenzy was accustomed to being wedged into tight spots. It came with his size and his function, and it was the only way he could possibly carry out his tasks. Despite this, the stereo decided being underground was one of _the_ worst places to be. _Ever_. Scorponok, on the other hand, couldn't have been happier. The drone positively radiated glee while they tunneled through the rock, sliding and undulating through the terrain. Frenzy would have preferred a more direct route inside the chambers hidden behind Hoover Dam, but those were out of the question. According to Dead End's reports, the Dam still wasn't open to the public, the entire area effectively transformed into a military base camp.

Frenzy had the entire layout of the base under Hoover Dam in his memory banks, pinpointing several choice spots for Scorponok to tunnel through. Despite the tough rock, Scorponok moved quickly, mindful of its mission and its uncomfortable passenger. Before long, the drone came to the weak spot it intended to break through, sending Frenzy a message to get ready. They were going to have to move fast to avoid being contained or captured.

The hall they burst into was, unfortunately, occupied by humans. Scorponok ejected Frenzy instantly, flashing its stunted tail and spinning his claws in an attempt to frighten the humans. It worked like a charm; wherever they had wound up was not populated by armed military personnel. The people took off running in all directions, and Scorponok gave them a merry chase out into the main corridors. More than one of them were brave enough to trigger the alarm, and Scorponok knew the countdown to their escape had begun. At the moment, the humans were too busy running from a giant killer robot scorpion to notice Frenzy dash off in the opposite direction.

In no time at all, Scorponok was being bombarded with rifle fire. Several humans sprayed it with a freezing substance, but the drone was far too swift. It was a matter of evading capture while giving Frenzy the time he needed to retrieve the potentially life-saving isotopes. Straying too far from their exit point was proving harder than the drone previously thought, but Frenzy could easily track the drone and they could escape another way. Scorponok was forced down an adjacent corridor in order to escape the blasts of icy cold, and suddenly found itself in a situation that had not been speculated in the least.

It had not been present during the Mission City battle, but Blackout had filled in several details, including when the human had had the gall to drop the Cube. The resulting energy discharge let loose three confused Transformers, but their ultimate fate had been unknown. There was only one human overseeing the caged mechanisms, as they ranked a low threat level. The human was, again, not military and consequently panicked when Scorponok advanced on him. It stopped when Frenzy informed him that he had the isotopes, and was headed back to their entry point.

Dead End had made their mission crystal clear_. In and out. As quickly as possible, and with as little damage as possible. The isotopes are the only objective_. Desperate, Scorponok relayed what it had found to Frenzy, who was so stunned he could barely sputter out a response. Without the guidance or orders from their respective masters, they were left in a lurch as to how to make a command decision. They were certainly capable of operating independently, and were trusted to act accordingly in unexpected situations. They had what they came for, and coming back would be completely out of the question. Scorponok based its decision on its masters past actions, the simple fact that Blackout never left his drone behind. _Never_.

More humans arrived, these ones well armed and shouting commands at each other, the drone, and the frightened guard. Scorponok acted quickly, tossing the cornered human out of the way, causing the ones chasing him to halt. They didn't want to risk hitting the other human, and that bought the drone precious moments to move. One swift motion with its claws splintered the two cages, and Scorponok seized the mechanisms before they had time to move anywhere else. It briefly registered the lifeless form of the third creature brought to life by the Cube, but there was no time to retrieve the carcass. A bomb went off down the hall, and Frenzy appeared moments later, spouting gibberish as scrambled towards the other drone. He was hauling a case that was easily twice his weight, but it didn't slow his enthusiasm down.

The case was not going to fit into any of Scorponok's storage compartments. This did not stop Frenzy from throwing it up on the scorpions back, clambering up and holding for dear life. Scorponok ran as more gunshots rained down on them, the halls echoing with shouting and weapons discharge. Their escape options were dwindling quickly, considering their ultimate plan had been to burrow in and then back out. There was no doubt whatsoever that they would be facing nothing but pure fury from Blackout and Barricade. A simple hit and run mission had become incredibly complicated, and the extra cargo prevented Scorponok from defending itself properly. With a quick command to Frenzy, it tossed the two rescued mechanism onto its back, where the hacker pulled them close.

There were only so many secret hallways and side passages they could maneuver through, and every second passed meant another exit had shut in their faces. Panic began to drive the drone until, at last, they burst into the sunlight at the bottom of Hoover Dam. Unfortunately, the outside was also crawling with military personnel, and all of them were ready and waiting for the Decepticons. Scorponok's optic shields shuttered briefly before it made a decision that would no doubt make Blackout throw it around by its tail. It fired two missiles directly at the Dam.

* * *

Dead End waited with saintly patience for the drones to return, idly flipping through the local radio stations. He was not looking forward to the drive back to Los Angeles, but after this he would no longer have to play at being transport. The thought of that scorpion climbing back inside of him after digging through the dirt sent shudders through his frame. He continued to surf the channels, keeping an audial out for emergency military alerts. One had started not long after the Porsche suspected the drones had broken in, but it failed to reach any sort of critical threat to him. That was up until the moment the radio bands started squawking about an explosion at Hoover Dam, damaging the structure itself. Dead End wondered what the drones took 'with as little damage as possible' to mean.

Not ten minutes after that cacophony had begun, Frenzy sent him a frantic message outlining just how badly things were going. The drones not only required backup, they needed to get out of there _now_. Uploading their current location to his CPU, Dead End hit the road, tires squealing as he accelerated. The pair had managed to get away from the structure itself, using the panic created by the damage to slip through. They were still being pursued, and would never make it as far away as where Dead End had been waiting. The Porsche assumed the scorpion must have damaged its claws, unable to borrow to safety.

The signal from the drones grew stronger, and the Porsche knew he was going to have to abandon the road to retrieve them. There was traffic out here, most it redirected from the Dam. Already bemoaning the loss of his beautiful paint job, Dead End finally swerved off the pavement and shot headlong into the bushes. He didn't go too deep, needing to be able to make a swift retreat back to the roadway. Moments after he stopped, Scorponok burst out of the bushes, spraying dirt and dust all over the previously spotless Porsche. Knowing there was nothing for it, he popped open his back door and the scorpion crawled in, dragging in even more dirt.

Dead End did not wait, snapping his door shut and reversing through the brittle foliage with ease. A group of humans had been chasing them, but the Stunticon left them behind to deal with the shock of a Porsche running away with a giant scorpion. His tires burned on the pavement as soon as he hit it, ignoring the furious honk from the motorist he had just cut off. Dead End shot off down the street, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the humans as possible. They would most certainly ID a red Porsche, which made him a bright, shiny target. Cursing the stupidity of the drones, he made quick time for the nearest highway, hoping to blend in there. The scorpion was taxed and overheated, all of its vents wide open as it huffed out hot air. Dead End had to crack his windows in order to ventilate the symbiote, but not low enough that people could see inside.

It took only 45 seconds for Dead End to discover Frenzy and Scorponok had come out with more than a case of radioactive isotopes. Something leapt onto his steering wheel, nearly causing him to swerve off the road as the intruder tried to jack itself into the Porsche. It was violently rebuffed, his mad swerving eventually bucking the thing off. Scorponok squealed as it rocked from side to side within the compact car, Frenzy swearing in multiple languages when he nearly got crushed by the larger drone. The first creature lolled in Dead End's passenger seat, and his winches tightened when a second mechanism looked at it over the head rest.

This was _not_ how they kept a low profile. He could not drive in a straight line if these things were going to be crawling all around inside him. Blackout and Barricade had specific caches for their drones, and the first creature had just tried to link itself to the Porsche. It might have been a steering wheel at one point, but Dead End did not know what it was now. There was a large Cadillac symbol printed on its center, but other than that it was something of a small monstrosity. The other one was more Frenzy's design, though it was white, and clearly less hyperactive.

Dead End gave them one simple, harsh command: "Control them." As far as he was concerned, they'd already made one horrible mistake. It was best to avoid making another one. He finally arrived at the highway, merging with the traffic and skulking in the shadows of semis and SUVs. He was mindful of air support, and let his color darken to pure black when he got the chance. Scorponok held each of the mechanisms in its claws, holding fast even while they squirmed and struggled. Frenzy made himself busy scanning the little monstrosities, quite surprised when the white one mimicked everything that he did.

"Do you have an explanation?" Dead End drawled. "Or should I just let Blackout rip you both to pieces? That might be interesting."

"Scorponok found them!" Frenzy burst out, ignoring the growl the scorpion gave him for finger pointing already.

"Scorponok found them!" the white mech repeated, looking ecstatic that it had done that. Frenzy stared at it curiously, then raised one hand and waved it around. Without missing a beat, the other mechanism copied him. He didn't know if that was amazing, or annoying.

"What, exactly, possessed you to take them with you?" Dead End pressed, already losing interest in the hapless drone. Obviously, it didn't have an ounce of intelligence. "I was _quite_ clear in my instructions."

Frenzy looked at Scorponok, who rotated its shoulders in a shrug. The white unit watched their interaction raptly, but the other one simply whined at being held captive. It was less aware of what was happening that its counterpart, it seemed.

"We couldn't _leave _them there," Frenzy insisted. "Humans don't need to know any more about us than they already do!"

"We couldn't _leave_ them there," the white mech started up, and Frenzy shot it a nasty look.

"That's getting annoying," Dead End said as the drone finished the second half of Frenzy's declaration. He supposed they did have a point, after all. There was no reason to allow the humans to keep any more of their kind locked up in cages or frozen solid for 'research'.

"Stop it!" Frenzy demanded, jabbing a finger at the mechanism.

"Stop it!" it replied, flailing its arm as best it could within Scorponok's claw.

"Shut up!" Frenzy shouted, instantly regretting it.  
Dead End checked a sigh, sliding between two tractor trailers and shifting his color to match the blue logo on both of them. The case containing the isotopes lay forgotten on his floor, but he didn't care so long as it was safe. It would be dark soon, and he would eventually shift his color back to black, and take to the back roads. News of an explosion at the Dam was on every local channel, quickly working its way to the national level. With any luck, panic over that would slow down the military, allowing them a successful escape.

If the drones did not behave themselves, however, Dead End would drive into a brick wall. It was as simple as that.

* * *

_A/N: I should probably mention that I'll be using elements from _Beginnings_ as well as _Reign of Starscream. _That's where the Allspark isotopes came from. Thanks to those who've reviewed, and thanks for reading =)_


	4. Chapter 4: Slow That Mustang Down

Blackout loitered near the outer walls of the compound, observing the others without really interacting with them. Dead End had departed over an hour ago with the two drones, maintaining radio silence as instructed. Breakdown had insisted on taking a look at Bonecrusher, and Barricade had taken him into the warehouse. The Black Hawk did not trust any of the Stunticons, feeling even more uneasy without Scorponok to back him up. Barricade had silently questioned the decision to send both drones off with one of them, but Blackout saw few alternatives.

If Dead End tried anything, Scorponok would rip him apart from the inside out, or Frenzy would fry him within seconds. Honestly, Blackout was more concerned about himself and Barricade. One Stunticon was dangerous enough, and their commander was the worst of the lot. Given his tenacity and murderous rage, Blackout did not look forward to battling the semi for control over their group. Thus far, Motormaster had been suspiciously compliant, either agreeing to everything he said, or compromising in the Black Hawk's favor.

Just when he was beginning to think _all_ of the Stunticons were acting odd, Wildrider proved him wrong. The Ferrari had been so quiet and subdued that Blackout wondered what sort of trauma he'd endured to finally be silenced. Not long after Dead End left, the Stunticon's tenuous self control evaporated and he was back to the obnoxious mess that Blackout remembered. When the Ferrari started screaming at Breakdown for no apparent reason, Motormaster had thrown him out of the warehouse and sent him on patrol.

"Let him terrorize the other motorists," Motormaster had said, sneering at the Ferrari's vanishing bumper. "Better them than us."

Breakdown, at least, did not seem to have changed. The white Lamborghini still spooked easily, and clammed up when someone was looking at him. He had perhaps gained more confidence since Blackout had last seen him, but not much. As for Motormaster, the Black Hawk accepted that he had always been hard to read. He went out of his way to come off as a bloodthirsty brute, an easy act to follow considering his history on the battlefield. It was the fact that he came back from the front lines with all of his men online that betrayed his cunning and his intelligence.

Blackout was interrupted from his thoughts when Barricade left the warehouse, putting an unnecessarily wide distance between himself and Motormaster. The interceptor pointedly ignored the tractor trailer, heading directly for where Blackout was brooding. With a poorly disguised huff, Barricade sat down next to the helicopter, slouching against the brick wall.

"Well?" Barricade asked, giving Blackout a questioning look before turning back to the warehouse. Motormaster was still outside, though half of him was leaning past the door frame of the building.

"I don't trust them," Blackout said simply, flicking his wrist and flaring out his tail fin blades. Barricade did not move, but he could see the Mustang watching as the blades spun, wary of their sharp edge. The Black Hawk felt uneasy letting Breakdown work on Bonecrusher unsupervised, but what did he expect to prevent by hovering over the Lamborghini? He wasn't convinced the Stunticon could do anything to him anyways, good or bad. "Unfortunately, they're all we've got."

"Do you really think the isotopes are going to work?" the interceptor asked, picking something green out of his grill. He figured he'd be pulling grass out of his frame for months after what the Stunticons had done to him. The Mustang was distracted by that when Blackout collapsed the rotor blades into one, swinging it in an arc with every flick of the wrist.

"I don't know," Blackout shook his head slowly. "I don't even know if what Dead End said about Bonecrusher is the truth. It's the only thing that makes sense, but -"

"Normal sparks," Barricade interrupted, lifting his hands for emphasis. "Do _not_ burn through armor like that."

Blackout fell silent, stilling his blades by catching them in the palm of his hand. On the surface, there was really no reason for the Stunticons to lie to them. They'd been out of the thick of things for a long time, but that would be plenty of time to come up with an agenda that did not necessarily work out in everyone else's favor.

"Were you there when they were exiled?" Blackout asked, looking down at the smaller Mustang. Barricade shook his head. "I was. No one saw it coming, including the Stunticons. I get the feeling that even _they_ don't know what caused Megatron to explode like that."

"It had to have been something good," Barricade muttered, lowering his voice when Motormaster stepped back outside. "But not bad enough for him to kill them outright."

"I suppose we'll never know," Blackout sighed, venting air from his intakes. He started flicking and catching the blades again, rotor mount scraping against the bricks as he adjusted his posture. Barricade looked at the blades, then up at Blackout before turning to look out over the compound. The humans were certainly on to something when they said body language spoke volumes. Blackout's nervous habits and temper always worsened when Scorponok was gone.

There was a sudden commotion near the warehouse, and both of them looked up, expecting something concerning the Constructicon. Breakdown had knocked down a stack of crates on his way out of the building, his attention riveted on Motormaster.

"Dragstrip just radioed in!" the white mech declared, and Blackout could feel Barricade deflate next to him. "He'll be here in about ten minutes. Says he ditched Bumblebee, and the Autobot gave up to rejoin the others –"

"Tell Wildrider to keep patrolling," Motormaster snorted, waving off whatever else the Lamborghini had to say. "I don't want those two starting anything."

"Blackout," Barricade hissed, getting the Black Hawk's attention without speaking too loudly. "I'm not making any promises once Dragstrip gets here."

Blackout tilted his head, curious. "What do you mean?"

"Dragstrip and I…" Barricade paused for a moment, considering how best to describe his feelings towards the Stunticon. "_Disagree_."

"Get over it," the Black Hawk snorted. He couldn't recall ever seeing the two of them quarrel, but Dragstrip had a singular talent of getting anyone to want to fight him. Still, it had been quite some time since they'd seen one another. Surely the Mustang couldn't hold a grudge for that long? "Keep your disagreements to yourself, and get your job done."

"Fair warning," Barricade muttered darkly, but said nothing else. Blackout knew better than to try and instigate the interceptor, noting how his posture had tensed. It was far less than ten minutes before they could hear tires squealing in the distance. The Black Hawk was suddenly reminded of how entirely unsubtle the Stunticons were, and it amazed him that they had been stalked by them for so long.

Motormaster and Breakdown were walking out to greet the fifth Stunticon before he arrived. The engine of the approaching vehicle screamed louder, suddenly manifesting itself by bursting through the front gates, all four tires off the pavement. The other two Stunticons broke apart before Dragstrip ran through them, Motormaster already cussing out his subordinate. Blackout had to do a double take, watching a black and white Mustang streak across the compound, emergency lights flashing. The Stunticon had copied every detail of Barricade's alt form, down to the '_to punish and enslave_' decal. Sounding his sirens once, Dragstrip hit his brakes hard, doing a complete three-sixty before snapping up into his root mode.

"This alt mode _sucks_," Dragstrip spat out, loud enough so that Barricade and Blackout could hear him from across the compound. "I _hate_ Mustangs!"

"That –" Barricade started, claws flexing in agitation. Blackout could feel the anger rolling off of the interceptor as he looked at a near mirror image of himself. Despite the identical alt mode, their robot modes were vastly different. The Stunticon was less angular than the other police cruiser, optics covered with a wide visor. "You – that's not –"

"Clever," Blackout commented, tactfully stepping around the flustered hunter. The fact that Dragstrip had managed to scan Barricade without his knowledge was most likely what had the interceptor's wires in a knot. It did explain how the Stunticon lured the Autobot scout away from them without betraying the rest of them. The Camaro wouldn't notice one Decepticon Mustang swapping places with another Decepticon Mustang.

"Really, Barricade?" Dragstrip was already attempting to rile the other Decepticon before he was anywhere near him. "Out of all the models out there, you thought _this_ one was a good choice? The colors are bad enough, even for a goddamn _police cruiser_. You know, black and white isn't exactly mandatory –"

"Save it," Motormaster interrupted loudly, getting a flat glare from the other Stunticon. Barricade remained in Blackout's shadow as they approached, determined to remain silent if only to spite the other Mustang. "Report."

"I ditched Bumblebee back in Nevada," the second Mustang said, jerking his thumb in the vague direction of the state. "After that I trailed him for awhile, but he wound up heading back to California. He was going towards where the other Autobots are when I broke off to come back to you guys. What's happened here?"

Dragstrip looked confused when Motormaster didn't answer him, glowering at him instead. He looked askance at Breakdown, but the white Lamborghini instantly looked at his feet.

"Oh, are we pretending to follow some sort of military protocol again?" Dragstrip laughed. "Right, whatev-"

"Dead End left with two of their drones to retrieve something the humans have," Motormaster interrupted him again, clearly agitated. "Come on inside the warehouse. We'll explain the rest."

The tractor trailer turned on his heel, marching towards the building with Breakdown right behind him. Dragstrip started to follow, and then stopped to face the other two Decepticons.

"Long time no see," he said, flashing a grin in Barricade's direction. The interceptor did not reply, barely peering around Blackout's side to even see the Stunticon. Not phased in the least, the other Mustang followed his commander into the warehouse without another backwards glance. Looking down at the interceptor, Blackout made his own observation concerning body language: Barricade was the picture perfect definition of boiling rage.

* * *

Sunset came with a cloud of dust and the bass of high end car speakers. That was the only warning they had to herald Dead End's return, as that Stunticon took his orders much more seriously than the others. While Dragstrip had been filled in on the situation, both Motormaster and Blackout kept themselves between the two Mustangs. The Black Hawk still did not see the reason for the hostility, but there was more wisdom in preventing a fight at this point. Breakdown managed to diffuse the tension by reporting what was on the radio waves, which alerted them to the situation at Hoover Dam.

The repetitive _pumpumpum_ of a car stereo system grew louder, eventually arriving in the form of the Porsche. Once he was past the gates, the music toned down to nothing, and his midnight black paint job lightened to a deep maroon. As he drove, the Porsche listed to the side a few times, jerking to correct himself. The others watched him approach curiously, wondering why the normally aloof Stunticon couldn't drive in a straight line. As soon as he stopped, all of his doors popped open at once.

Blackout started forward, intent on grilling Scorponok over what had happened at the Dam. Barricade planned to do the same to Frenzy, but both of them stopped dead when _four_ drones emerged from the Porsche. One of them was helping Frenzy drag the case of isotopes out of Dead End, while the second was still held in one of Scopronok's claws. As soon as they were out, Dead End's doors closed in no particular order whatsoever. The Porsche sagged on his tires, suddenly lurching forward to drive past Dragstrip.

"Dead End?" the Stunticon started, but the Porsche just rolled right past him.

"Leave me alone," Dead End moaned, practically driving on the rims his tires were so deflated. When he disappeared around the other side of the warehouse, Dragstrip shook his head.

"Drama queen," he muttered, turning back to the newest arrivals.

"This is…unexpected," Barricade was saying, having knelt down to see Frenzy's new friend. It seemed interested in the new surroundings, but backed away from the Mustang as he advanced, cowering behind Frenzy. The stereo pulled it forward.

"This is Rumble!" Frenzy announced, nearly shaking in his excitement.

"I'm Rumble!" the drone burst out, pointing at Frenzy, then itself. Barricade looked taken aback at that, but said nothing. He shot a glance up at Blackout, but the Black Hawk was already leaning over his own drone.

"Where did you find them?" Blackout asked, opening his hand so Scorponok could give him the second drone. Terrified, the creature tried to crawl back to the scorpion, but Blackout curled his fingers around it before it got too far.

"The humans had them," Frenzy explained. "Scorponok found them, and took them. We didn't want the humans doing any more _experiments _on them."

"What the hell are they?" Motormaster grunted, towering over the Mustang as he watched Rumble try to back away again. Frenzy would have none of it, keeping the white mech front and center.

"Show them!" the stereo urged. Rumble looked apprehensive, green optics darting from Frenzy to the much, _much _taller mechs surrounding them. After a moment, the white mech folded down into a narrow box, rattling on the concrete. There was silence, as no one seemed to know what it had just transformed in to.

"Ha!" Dragstrip suddenly laughed. "An X-Box 360! What does that one turn in to?"

Blackout opened his hand up, but kept his other hand nearby to catch the thing if it tried to scurry away. Instead of attempting to escape, it flattened itself into Blackout's palm. There was a hollow, hissing sound coming from it, which the Black Hawk thought was less than intimidating.

"It wouldn't transform," Frenzy said, skittering over to Blackout's feet. The stereo scaled his frame in no time, hanging off his forearm to look at the second drone. "It's not as _smart_ as Rumble. It just keeps hissing like that –"

"Is that a _Cadillac _symbol?" Motormaster interrupted, leaning closer to Blackout to see the thing better. Resisting the urge to lean away, the Black Hawk suddenly caught Barricade staring at him. The Mustang instantly looked down at Frenzy and Rumble, then back at the helicopter. "It looks like a goddamned steering wheel."

The drone just continued to hiss, twitching its claws and rolling around in Blackout's hand when Motormaster tried to poke it. The steering wheel was already a low priority, but Barricade obviously thought there was something to discuss about the X-Box.

"I think it's trying to honk," Breakdown said, wedging himself in between the semi and the Black Hawk. "It's just not attached to a car to be able to do it."

"What about the isotopes?" Blackout demanded suddenly, handing the steering wheel off to a startled Breakdown. The Lamborghini cupped it in both hands, watching it curiously as it hissed uselessly.

"Got them all!" Frenzy declared, running back down Blackout's arm and jumping off to join Rumble. The X-Box was already back to his root mode, quite relieved when Frenzy was close by once again. Together, they tipped the case on its side, then cracked it open. All of their scanners went off the charts, pinpointing the energy source as undeniably Cybertronian.

"Give me one, then shut it," Blackout commanded. "We don't need the Autobots detecting that."

Much to his surprise, Rumble was the one to pull a rod out, while Frenzy quickly resealed the case. Apparently feeling much braver, the white mech offered the isotope to Blackout, who took it carefully. The Black Hawk did not head for the warehouse, instead turning to his drone. Scorponok looked startled, backing up a few feet as its master advanced. There was an unspoken signal, and the scorpion cowed to Blackout, rolling onto its back without a fuss.

"Hold still now," Blackout said quietly, though he hardly cared if anyone else heard it. Scorponok allowed the Black Hawk to open the armor protecting its spark, tail curling in anticipation. Blackout brought the isotope within inches of the drone's laser core, both of them starting when electricity lanced off of it. The results were instantaneous: the energy from the rod was immediately sucked into the scorpions frame, and every scar, hole, and dent on the drone's body sealed shut and healed over. In only a matter of seconds, Scorponok's tail was whole once again, stinger flexing and twitching.

When it was done, the drone flipped back over and launched itself at Blackout with a joyous squeal. The isotope fell out of his hand, rolling across the pavement where Frenzy picked it up in curiosity. Whatever energy had been stored in it was gone now, looking like a burned out fluorescent tube. Blackout allowed the scorpion to climb up on his rotor mount, somewhat irritated by the public display. Motormaster was watching him with an entirely unreadable expression on his face.

"Take that case into the warehouse," Blackout said to Frenzy, who had Rumble hanging off of one of his arms. The two drones sprang into action immediately, most of the Stunticons already heading towards Bonecrusher. Blackout lingered behind to get his drone back on the ground, but he was more concerned about the looks Barricade had been giving him. Taking advantage of being alone, the interceptor moved closer to the Black Hawk, feigning interest in the scorpion.

"Isn't Rumble dead?" Blackout asked lowly, watching Motormaster drag Dead End out of his hiding spot.

"Yes," Barricade replied, nodding once. "He died with Soundwave."

"That was a _long_ time ago," Blackout's optics darkened. He started forward at a slow pace, so their conversation didn't attract any attention. "Is it going to be a problem?"

"I don't think it's going to hurt anything," Barricade said, following in the Black Hawk's wake. "Losing them didn't make Frenzy any less effective in the field. He'll probably expect me to host the new Rumble."

"Will you?" Blackout asked, trying to keep his voice down as they got closer to the warehouse. Barricade merely shrugged, hanging back so Blackout could duck inside the building before him. Motormaster waited outside, so as to not crowd who was already inside. Dead End had transformed, standing with Breakdown and Dragstrip near the door as Blackout and Barricade stood over Bonecrusher. Neither of them was excited about the prospect of dealing with the Constructicon's spark again.

Rumble was the one to motivate them, opening the case by himself and fishing out another one of the isotopes. Blackout took it, then looked towards Barricade to do the rest. Cautiously, the Mustang opened the chest armor of the Buffalo, revealing the bright blue spark beneath. It seemed _too_ blue, but Barricade put it down to his imagination, and the fact that it had burned his hands the other day. He pulled back when Blackout brought the rod close to it, which had the same effect that it had on Scorponok. There was, unfortunately, a notable difference.

"That barely did anything," Barricade said, watching only the surface scratches on the Buffalo's armor reseal. Rumble was already on it, pulling another rod out of the case before the Black Hawk had even discarded the first isotope. Blackout brought the second around, the energy absorbed quickly but with minimal results. Rumble did not hesitate, supplying the Black Hawk with a third and a fourth one.

"That does it," Blackout growled, irritated that they were wasting the isotopes and getting hardly anywhere with Bonecrusher. "Give me the whole case."

He would have liked to have kept some of them for an emergency, but he needed the mine sweeper as functional as possible. Resisting the urge to dump them on the Constructicon, Blackout clutched the remaining isotopes in one fist. As soon as he moved them towards the other mech, Barricade and the assembled Stunticons all leaned back. So much for a vote of confidence. This time, the isotopes smoked as the energy was siphoned off, shooting into the exposed spark with a flash of light.

_That_ did the trick. The Constructicon instantly sat bolt upright, optics flaring brightly as his systems did a hard reboot, glass rods scattering across the floor as Blackout dropped them. Everyone watched him apprehensively, unsure of what to expect. Bonecrusher looked back at them blearily, posture wavering somewhat as his programs recalibrated in a mad scramble. Blackout moved forward to speak at the same time that something audibly churned in the Buffalo's fuel tanks.

"Oh hell," Dragstrip said, back pedaling as quickly as he could, taking Breakdown and Dead End with him. No sooner had he spoken, Bonecrusher pitched forward, violently purging a deluge of foul, black liquid. There was a unanimous outcry of disgust and horror, all of them backing away in unison.

"That _reeks_," Breakdown moaned, covering half his face with his hands. Bonecrusher continued to hack and shudder, making an entirely dissatisfied sound as he did so. Somewhat haphazardly, the Constructicon pounded his chest, though the action was weak and ineffectual.

"What- " Dragstrip started, then turned his head away for a moment. After clearing his vents, he rounded on the other Mustang. "What is that _smell_? Did you try to fuel him with _gasoline_?"

"What else were we supposed to do?" Barricade snarled, not even blinking as Frenzy and Rumble climbed up his frame to escape the liquid rot.

"_Diesel_, you moron," Dragstrip bit back, sneering down at the puddle of curdled waste and fuel byproducts. "His alt mode can't process regular gasoline without _that_ happening!"

By now, Blackout had worked up the courage to approach the hacking Buffalo. Bonecrusher's chassis was rattling from the force of his coughing, and he was having a difficult time purging everything. It took a well placed slap on the back to dislodge the remainder of the waste, and Bonecrusher sputtered in relief. The mine sweeper wiped his mouth components with his hands, blissfully unaware of what had trailed down his front. Most of the Stunticons had backed out of the warehouse, and Barricade put it down to vanity issues.

"What- " Bonecrusher managed, shoulders shuddering from the effort. "What-"

"Easy," Blackout said, vocalizer quiet and oddly soft. Behind him, Barricade tried to peer around the Black Hawk's rotor mount to see the Buffalo. Both Frenzy and Rumble hung off of his wheel well to see as well. The mine sweeper suddenly became aware the Stunticons loitering around the entrance of the warehouse. His look of confusion prompted Blackout's much louder command: "Everyone out. _Now_."

The Stunticons didn't hesitate, clearing out at once. Blackout grabbed Barricade's arm before the interceptor left, and the Mustang stepped over to the other side of Bonecrusher. Both of them crouched down to get closer to the mine sweeper, though they were mindful of the reeking puddle of waste between them. Bonecrusher looked between them uncertainly. Why were they looking at him like that?

"What do you remember?" Blackout prompted him instantly. Bonecrusher merely stared at him. What kind of question was that? He remembered a lot of things, so what was he asking for? At the lack of response, Blackout tried again. "Do you remember Starscream attacking you?"

"What?" Bonecrusher shook his head, looking towards Barricade for some sort of clue. He noticed the white drone hanging off his shoulder, which sent his processor in another loop. Last time he'd checked, the Mustang had _one _symbiote. "You…"

Bonecrusher trailed off, apparently losing his train of thought as Scorponok caught his attention. Wasn't that drone supposed to be in Qatar?

"Do you know what Starscream did?" Blackout continued, frustrated by Bonecrusher's reactions. Was he even still in there? "And Megatron –"  
"Slow _down_," Barricade suddenly cut in, getting a sharp look from the helicopter. "Bonecrusher."

The mine sweeper focused on Barricade when he said his name. The Mustang took the recognition of his name as a good sign.

"When Megatron dismissed us, you headed west," the interceptor started out slowly, making certain he kept Bonecrusher's attention. Blackout wisely stayed out of it, letting the Mustang work. "Where were you going?"

"Just…" Bonecrusher shook his head. "I just wanted to drive. Los Angeles, I guess. I didn't plan on going too far."

"Where did you stop?" Barricade asked, shifting his stance. That caused Frenzy and Rumble to rearrange their positions, and Bonecrusher watched them curiously. "Bonecrusher, where did you stop?"

The mine sweeper looked back at the Mustang, optic shields shuttering for a moment. "I don't really remember. I wasn't paying attention. I think – I was going to rest for a few hours, then head back. Call the others. It's kind of… vague after that."

Barricade exchanged looks with Blackout, unnoticed by Bonecrusher. The mine sweeper was watching the drones again. Did Barricade know there were two of them? May be he was imagining the second one.

"Try to remember," Blackout urged, getting another confused look from Bonecrusher. "You told me Starscream attacked you. You said -"

"Starscream," Bonecrusher said suddenly, optics flaring again. "He came out of nowhere. He just –"

The Constructicon stopped, shaking his head. He remembered the F-22 coming at him, and then he remembered _pain_. After that, he had been so badly damaged that his CPU had difficulty recovering the memory files.

"What about Brawl?" Blackout pressed, ignoring Barricade's disapproving look. They had wasted enough time, and Bonecrusher might have the answers that they needed. "You said he was there."

Bonecrusher didn't recall having that conversation with Blackout, which was par for the course by now. He racked his processors for anything involving Brawl, beyond the battle at Mission City. They had been briefly reunited when Megatron called them together, only to dismiss them. That order had confused them all, and he remembered thinking Blackout was rather eager to fly off and abandon them. Then again, now that he saw Scorponok, he realized why the Black Hawk had been in such a hurry. Bonecrusher had left them all in favor of some driving, scouting for Autobots at the same time. What Brawl had done, he had no idea. Except –

"He said I was dead," Bonecrusher blurted out, getting startled looks from the other two Decepticons. "No – he told me to be quiet. Then he said I was dead."

Bonecrusher was even more confused now. Hadn't he died? It seemed like he had, at one point.

"Who was he talking to?" Barricade asked.

"Starscream," Bonecrusher answered at once. "He told Starscream that I was dead, and then they both left."

The Constructicon couldn't make any sense of it, but Blackout was visibly relieved.

"We still have Brawl, then," the Black Hawk said, nodding once. "He must have activated your distress beacon when he checked you over."

"Sure," Bonecrusher said dismissively. He was still trying to remember something that might help him figure out what was going on _now_.

"Brawl's a terrible liar," Barricade rumbled, leaning back on his heels. Both drones scurried over his shoulders again, before peering back at Bonecrusher. The Constructicon stared back at them. "He's going to have to get away from Starscream before he sees right through him."

"We have to get off this damned planet," Blackout growled, rising to his feet. With Bonecrusher healed, that afforded them much more maneuverability. At the doorway, all five of the Stunticons were attempting to lean in and eavesdrop. Blackout wasn't certain when Wildrider had returned, but by now Bonecrusher had really noticed them.

"They're all dead," the Constructicon said flatly, before looking askance at Barricade. "Aren't they?"

"If we were only so lucky," Barricade said lowly, before speaking up. "No. They're helping us. Why don't you rest for now? We can fill you in later."

"I don't know," Bonecrusher said, watching Blackout rise and head for the doorway. The Black Hawk motioned to Motormaster, and the two of them walked out of sight. "I don't know what's going on. How many drones do you have?"

Barricade looked startled by that question, glancing at Rumble briefly. "I have two now. It's a long story, Bonecrusher. You should just rest."

The Constructicon looked ready to argue, before getting cut off by Wildrider.

"I'd listen to him Boner," the Ferrari snapped, before turning to Dragstrip. "Obviously his circuits are still fried."

"Bonecrusher," the Constructicon said thickly, correcting the grey Stunticon. "It's Bonecrusher."

"Whatever, _Boner_," Wildrider sneered. The lewd nickname made Dragstrip snort in amusement, but he didn't add anything. "Just do what Barricade says. Shut up and shut down, you useless waste of –"

Whatever else the Ferrari had to say was silenced when Dead End slapped his hand over Wildrider's mouth. Bonecrusher suddenly wished the Stunticons really were dead. He was beginning to recall what made him hate them so much.

* * *

"How did you get to Earth?" Blackout demanded, not waiting until they were out of earshot of the others. Motormaster said nothing for a moment, looking back at the warehouse before turning to face the Black Hawk.

"We stole a ship in order to get off Cybertron," the tractor trailer said lowly, as if he were admitting a dirty secret. "It's not going to do us much good here –"

"I don't think you understand," Blackout interrupted him, blades spreading out behind him. Motormaster wondered if that was subconscious, or some primal reflex to make oneself look bigger than they were. "We need to get off this planet and back to Cybertron as quickly as possible. Shedding our alt modes and traveling as protoforms will be too dangerous and will take too long."

"The ship is in Europe," Motormaster said, looking away from the Black Hawk again. "We _could_ summon it here, but it would probably get shot down by the military. Not only has their technology improved in the past fifty years, but they're going to know we're a credible threat."

"Don't be thick with me," Blackout snarled, hands clenching into fists. Motormaster was stalling, but the Black Hawk could not understand why. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about rejoining the war, wanting to remain idle and lazy among the humans. "Send the ship into orbit, and bring it back down to our location once the earth has rotated through this solar cycle. By the time the humans _or_ Autobots notice it, we'll be on our way out."

Motormaster was horribly silent at that. Blackout knew that if the Stunticon was going to challenge him, the time would be now. Finally, the tractor trailer shrugged his shoulders, taking a step back. "You're the boss, boss. I'll get Dragstrip and Dead End on it."

The grey 'Con turned and headed back for the warehouse, leaving a baffled Black Hawk in his wake. If he hadn't been suspicious of the Stunticons before, he most certainly was now. Blackout could only guess at what was going on beneath the surface, though he had some inkling. Later, he would grill Barricade, even Bonecrusher, to try and piece together this little mystery. For the time being, he would wonder what had turned one of the most ruthless Decepticons he had ever seen into another spineless, appeasing subordinate.


	5. Chapter 5: Ticking Clocks

Brawl was terrified out of his mind. It wasn't a feeling the tank was used to; after all, he was one of the strongest soldiers in the Decepticon army. He had taken on Autobots far larger than himself and won. He had taken on fellow _Decepticons_ far larger than himself and lived to tell about it. Few things gave him pause, especially since he made a habit of obliterating first, asking questions never. Unfortunately, he was currently on a ship that was crawling with any ground pounders natural enemy: Seekers. To make it worse, all of them were Starscream's most loyal, devoted minions. The Combaticon was in a distinct minority, and everyone on board knew it.

It didn't help him any that the entire crew was on edge for a number of reasons. It was shocking enough that Megatron was dead and Starscream had the Allspark, but the Autobot attack on Mars had damaged their ship. It left them unable to use the Space Bridge pathways, setting back their return to Cybertron by several solar cycles. Starscream saw the situation as entirely unacceptable, but refused or denied the possibility of using the Cube to repair the ship. He had his reasons, and he wasn't sharing them with anyone. Brawl was accustomed to tense, dangerous predicaments, but he was entirely out his element here.

The tank put up an impressive front, stomping and snarling through the halls, _trying_ to start fights just to _avoid_ them. He kept as far away from the command deck as he possibly could, wanting to have nothing to do with Starscream. He knew the F-22 would call for him eventually, to iron out the details and make certain the tank didn't say anything he wasn't supposed to. Starscream had very little to worry about in that regard, as Brawl didn't want to think about what had happened on Earth any more than was necessary.

Not wanting to linger in one spot for too long, Brawl continued making rounds throughout the ship. He could tell he was grating on the nerves of the Seekers, which was exactly what he wanted. They needed to see him as a threat, not some dirt sucking ground pounder that couldn't see past his own gun turrets. He had made a habit of irritating the Communications Officer, loudly demanding when he could get in contact with his own Commander, Onslaught. That particular Seeker, whose name he strove to forget, had learned to hate him quickly, visibly tensing whenever Brawl walked into sight.

Parts of his bellicose demands were for show, but Brawl was truly anxious to speak with Onslaught. Granted, he wouldn't be able to say anything of importance to the military tactician, but it would calm his nerves. Onslaught always knew what to do. His main concern at this point was Starscream's possible interference, and that he might force the Combaticons further apart. They had never bothered hiding their disapproval of the F-22 and everything that he did, which made them quite a few enemies. While they had little love for Megatron, the tyrant was, _had been_, stronger and more inclined towards their military thinking. Brawl had been more than relieved when the tyrant was back in control, up until –

No, no, he was better off not thinking about it. He was going to have to relive it when Starscream finally decided to call him in, and then once again when he got the chance to report to Onslaught. Twice was enough. After that, he'd just start shooting if anyone asked him about it. Quite sooner than he expected, Brawl came to the communications room. He wasted no time in drawing himself up, trying to make himself look as threatening and belligerent as possible. Maybe he'd get thrown in the brig for riling the Seekers; it would be safer than wandering the halls with no backup. He had made so much of a nuisance of himself, he was surprised one of them hadn't shot him yet.

"Well?" Brawl bellowed, covering his anxiety with brute force. It almost didn't work this time, because the Communications Officer did not tense up or scowl or snap at him. Instead, he turned to face the tank, a sanguine smile on his face that nearly unglued Brawl's tough-guy front entirely.

"I'm afraid there's bad news," the Seeker said, though his expression was nothing short of gleeful. It made Brawl intensely uncomfortable, and he fought down the urge to smash the Seekers' head through the console. "We couldn't get through to the outpost in Garrus-7 because it no longer exists. The reports are just now being finished, but it's been confirmed - Onslaught and his entire regiment are dead."

There was a tense moment of silence, before Brawl declared: "Bullshit."

The Seeker frowned, obviously not understanding the human explicative. He squawked in protest when the tank pushed him out of the way, but made no move to physically resist him. Brawl began skimming over the report himself, a sense of dread pooling in his fuel tanks. The situation on Garrus-7 was a complicated, confused mess that somehow ended with every Decepticon and Autobot dead. It involved the native species, illegal weapons trade and half the planet going up in flames. There were no survivors, meaning that not only was Onslaught dead, but so was Swindle. Something flashed on the command console, and the Seeker edged his way back to his station.

"If you don't mind," the Communications Officer grumbled, tensing when Brawl hesitated before getting out of the way. "I would advise speaking with Starscream, as he's been notified of the, ah, _situation_."

"Sure," Brawl said blandly. The tank turned and left, knowing that staying any longer would result in a dead Seeker. Brawl felt unexpectedly numb at the news, but it quickly turned to white-hot rage. He did not head for the command deck, because he did not trust himself with his temper at the moment. It was always just under boiling to begin with, and his nerves were rubbed all wrong being stuck on a ship full of Seekers. He was outnumbered and directionless, the impulse to lash out growing exponentially with each passing moment.

Brawl repressed the urge to scream. Usually, if he couldn't open fire on anything, screaming himself hoarse helped. Here, it would attract unwanted attention. Worse, the Seekers would take it as grieving, which would give them no end of entertainment. Brawl did not want to give them the satisfaction. He was certainly upset by Onslaught's death, but not just because he had been a close friend for thousands of years. The military tactician had been his superior, the one mech that he trusted more than anyone else in the universe. He was the only Combaticon left now, and without Onslaught, he doubted he could even call himself that anymore.

Without a commander or a crew, Brawl was left out in the wide open for reassignment. Any Seeker on this ship that held rank over him could be his new superior officer, and that thought infuriated him all the more. He would most likely have to report directly to Starscream, since the F-22 had specifically requested him for the mission to Earth. With Onslaught gone, Starscream would assume he was next in the chain of command for Brawl. It was small consolation to him, then, that the Raptor couldn't have been more wrong.

Brawl wasn't going to let him know that there had been plenty of alliances, trades, and promises exchanged behind his back. Despite his skill and intelligence, Onslaught had known there was the possibility of his own death, and of leaving his subordinates leaderless. All of the commanders and team leaders had taken the necessary precautions to ensure survival if left to the whims of Starscream. It took Brawl a long while to notice, but all of those plans and trades and secrets ultimately led straight to one mech: Blackout.

Over the long, long years of the war, Blackout's original crew had been killed off one by one. Starscream made it no secret how much he hated Blackout, using and abusing his power to make the helicopter suffer where he should have shined. Before Tyger Pax, Blackout's sole function had been Special Ops, and his men were spies and saboteurs. They were sneaks, thieves, and liars, and did their best work in the dark and behind closed doors. What they were _not_ designed for was duty on the front lines, ill equipped for full scale assaults. In all his madness and greed, Starscream had wasted their best intelligence officers, tossing them out in an attempt to get Blackout killed in the line of duty.

He ordered the Pave Low to fight in skirmishes that were logistically beyond all of them. It was a testament to Blackout's skills that they weren't _all_ killed in one sitting. He kept his casualties low, despite all of them being thrown in over their heads. He was determined to win, learning new military tactics and strategies if only to spite Starscream. Reasoning with the F-22 was flagrant insubordination, as was outright challenging him, so Blackout had had to change gears. He replaced his dead comrades with the best of what little the Decepticon ranks had left to offer. Many of them lacked the skills of the previous saboteurs, but they had proven effective on the battle field. Blackout had tried for a combination, but Starscream was hell bent on seeing him fail.

Blackout stopped recruiting after he lost over half of them in Tyger Pax, a battle that had claimed two of Brawl's own team mates. Vortex had gotten shot down, and Blast Off had been on loan to the Pave Low at the time. After that massacre had ended, Blackout dismissed the remainder of his skeletal crew to the command of other officers. Their numbers dwindled to nothing, and Blackout limited himself to solo missions, claiming that his symbiote was the only backup he required.

Brawl remembered Onslaught's interest in what Blackout did in the time after Tyger Pax. The tank thought that the military tactician was considering replacing Blast Off with Blackout, but the Pave Low still held rank over Onslaught. Starscream ensured that anyone who was vocally loyal to Blackout either perished unexpectedly, or was kept as far from the Pave Low as possible. In retaliation, Blackout recruited in silence, and Starscream was content to think the helicopter had exhausted his supply of friends and allies. That was how Brawl had discovered Blackout's more underhanded techniques when it came to rebuilding a decent crew.

Blackout had not come to recruit Onslaught; he had been after the tank. Brawl could only guess at what their conversation might have been, since he arrived just as Blackout was leaving. Onslaught had explained his new orders carefully, outlining a new chain of command that wouldn't be written or spoken anywhere. Brawl did not know who else was involved, but that was what kept it a _secret_. Starscream was not stupid enough to think there were no plots behind his back, but the Pave Low's methods were remarkably untraceable.

Brawl knew he had to get off of the ship and as far away from Starscream as soon as he possibly could. He had no doubt that the Pave Low still lived, and more than likely had Barricade to assist him. Starscream had left the Mustang behind because he _knew_ Barricade would betray him for Blackout. What Brawl didn't understand was why the F-22 had attacked Bonecrusher, but not him. The Combaticons were far more obvious about their dislike of the Seeker than the Constructicons, so what was Starscream playing at? He wondered if it was because he was a witness to – well, he'd rather not think of it.

This was why Brawl was not a ranking commander. He hated sitting around thinking about plots and plans and strategies, he just wanted to put them into motion so he could blow things up. The tank stopped in the middle of the corridor, realizing he had done so much thinking that he'd wound up near the engines. That meant he was at a dead end unless he was interested in the engines, so he turned around, deciding that facing Starscream would be his next task. Unfortunately, he found three Seekers blocking his path, lead by Thundercracker.

"You're wanted on the command deck," Thundercracker rumbled, his vocalizer still off pitch from his battle on Mars. Brawl felt his hands clench, stuffing down the desire to start bellowing. It was _not_ good that Thundercracker himself had come to fetch the tank. "I don't think Starscream would be too pleased to find out you're hiding back here, ignoring him."

"I wasn't ignoring him," Brawl snapped, ire rising quickly. One of the Seekers shifted, and the tank's fighting instincts flared even hotter. He was beginning to feel boxed in, and every tiny motion the Seekers made looked threatening to Brawl.

"Then I suppose you were lost?" a second Seeker sneered. "Spent too long with your head in the mud?"

"_No_," Brawl snarled. "I wasn't –"

"Thinking?" the third Seeker interrupted, and Brawl fought mightily to control himself. It was the Communications Officer, still wearing that hideous grin. "We already knew that. I _told_ you to report to Starscream, didn't I? And here you are, bawling in the corner over your lost Commander –"

"Don't you even -!" Brawl started to defend Onslaught, knowing if they outright insulted him, he would lose it completely. His threat was cut off when the ship suddenly lurched, the frame shuddering and groaning. Both Thundercracker and Brawl hit the wall, while the other Seekers toppled to the floor, squawking in surprise. The lights flickered, and then everything went red, sirens blaring in alarm.

"Dammit!" Thundercracker swore, stepping over the other stunned Seekers. "Get up and get to the command deck! _Now_!"

The Seekers scrambled over one another until they were both running, but Thundercracker rounded on Brawl.

"You too, dirtsucker!" he snapped, shouting to be heard over the alarms. The ship shuddered again, and then the dark blue Seeker was gone, hot on the heels of the others.

Brawl was in far less of a hurry, but he didn't lag too far behind. He'd rather know what was happening, hoping there was a fight in the near future. The ship pitched three more times before the tank made it up to the command deck, which was swarming with most of the flight crew by now. He would have gotten more pleasure in watching Seekers get thrown around had he not struck his head against the bulkheads twice already. Starscream was nearly blowing out his vocalizer he was screeching so loudly.

"Get them _off_ of us!" Starscream shrieked, his tone full of impatient fury. Brawl stumbled his way to one of the weapons consoles, identifying the problem rather quickly. It seemed some form of Autobot convoy had ambushed them, and the ship had taken quite a pounding before managing to retaliate. "How far is our docking point?"

"Not far, they know we're coming –" Thundercracker started, before Starscream interrupted him with another shriek.

"Then _why aren't they assisting us_!?" the F-22 howled, most of the crew on deck cringing.

"They're inbound!" a Seeker that Brawl did not know said, his voice full of panic. "The Autobots are attacking the compound there as well, it's all they can spare!"

"Just get us planetside, we'll take care of these foul Autobots there!" Starscream ordered, gripping the command console as the ship shuddered again. Brawl braced himself against the wall, watching the numerous feeds tell them how badly they were doing.

"Hull breach on level two!" Thundercracker announced, swearing as the security systems went haywire. "They're coming in!"

Brawl was gone in an instant, cannons charging. Thundercracker ordered a pair of Seekers to assist him, but the tank did not hear it. This was a situation that Brawl could work with; pounding Autobots into scrap always did wonders for his temper. Rounding the corner, the tank nearly had his head taken off by a rifle shot. The Seekers recoiled at once, intending to take cover and deal with the Autobots from there. Brawl had a more straight forward tactic to deal with them.

With an animalistic bellow, the tank dove into the Autobot strike force, using his momentum to take out two of them with his arms. The Autobots went down hard, and Brawl swept past them, already opening fire on the other four members of the team. Half of them dropped back for cover, while the others attempted to deflect the advancing 'Con. Brawl had had a lot worse than bullets thrown at him during the course of the war, and they did little more than irritate him. The Autobots realized they should be running once the tank was already on top of them.

The Combaticon's claws sank into the armor of the nearest Autobot, slicing through his neck cords and stopping in his chassis. When Brawl pulled back, the claws stuck, bringing his assailant with him. Before his companion could take advantage of that error, Brawl merely used the Autobot as a blunt object, slamming them both into the wall. That loosened up his claws, and the tank pulled them free, turning just in time to have his left shoulder mount blown off by another rifle shot. Snarling more in anger than pain, Brawl hefted the still conscious Autobot, using him as a shield.

The remaining two units from the strike force immediately ceased fire, and Brawl started forward, keeping his temporary shield high in the air. The Autobot struggled against his grip, stalling when Brawl's claws extended frighteningly close to his head. Once he was within twenty feet of the corridor the others were lurking behind, the three of them tried for a joint attack. The Autobot he was holding released his shoulder mounted cannons, but Brawl was already hauling him the side, smashing his head against the wall. The other Autobots had unwisely chosen their regular guns, which did absolutely nothing to deter Brawl.

Before dropping the Autobot, the tank twisted his head between both hands, relishing in the sound his snapping neck cords made. Bullets tinged off his thicker armor and the surrounding wall, nothing more than biting insects as far as he was concerned. Brawl roared again, charging forward to deal with the remaining Autobots. They attempted to split up; one to fight off Brawl, the other dashing off to complete whatever mission he might have. Brawl had no intention of the giving them the chance, lunging forward and ripping the arm off of the one that had stayed behind.

The mech wailed in pain, but did not go down, instead surging forward and grabbing onto the tank to waylay him. He felt pain shoot up his side, as the mech no doubt had some sort of blade attached to his good arm. Brawl ripped him off of his side, hauling back and hurtling the mech down the corridor after his fleeing comrade. His aim could have been better, but he managed to clip the Autobot's legs, both of them tumbling across the floor. The tank was already on top of them before they came to a stop, shoving his claws through the head of one of them.

The remaining Autobot scrambled backwards, trying desperately to escape the murderous tank. Brawl grabbed him by the foot, pulling him back. The Autobot lifted his arm, a small plasma cannon whirring to life as he took aim and opened fire. The shot hit Brawl dead on, but the charge was too low to cause him to recoil. Ignoring the burn on his chest, Brawl brought his foot down on the Autobot's neck, grinding for good measure.

There was movement behind him, and Brawl whirled around, cannons charging to life. He barely relaxed his triggers when he saw two Seekers, who had followed in his wake to ensure the Autobots were either dead or incapacitated. The pair froze when he targeted them, which pleased the tank to no end. They were actually _afraid _of him, worried that he might mistake them for Autobots and fire on them. The Autobot beneath him twitched, but his personal comm link flared to life, and Thundercracker's baritone vocalizer came through.

"_Brawl, there's a second team coming through on level 7. Cut them off!"_

The tank grunted, starting forward to make it to the appropriate level on time. No doubt Starscream had watched his entire battle from the command deck, content to sit back and observe. On the way, he assessed his damage, finding it minimal. Oddly enough, the bullets had done the most damage, if only because it would take him ages to shake them all out. The plasma wound on his chest still smoldered, but it was a dull ache compared to the battle lust that raged through his fuel lines. If he could just keep on fighting, he wouldn't have to think about anything else. He wouldn't have to worry about Bonecrusher, or Blackout, or Megatron –

Brawl did not reach level 7 before being assaulted by the next group of Autobots, which meant they were far more efficient that the previous group. It stood to reason that the first group would be a distraction, but it had been a wasteful one. This team consisted of only four Autobots, all of them smaller, faster, and much more nimble. They were not heavily armed, nor was their armor rated to defend them against Brawl's cannons. One of them went down with one shot, howling as his left leg was blown off at the knee joint. The rest scattered, and Brawl suddenly found himself swamped by the small Autobots.

The tank made a grab for the nearest one, snarling in pain as the Autobot shoved their fist up into his wounded side. The Autobot yelped as Brawl made a wide swipe with his hand, the sound giving her away as a femme. One of her companions quickly pulled her out of the Brawl's reach, as the third one made off with their crippled teammate. Undeterred, the tank started after them, knowing he could follow the trail of leaking Energon if he lost sight of them.

Something grinded between the gears in his side, and his systems suddenly detected the presence of a foreign object. Brawl scrambled to remove it at the same time he heard the faint _beep_ of a grenade set to detonate. The tank threw himself against the wall to try to contain it, before all he felt was liquid fire ripping through his frame, and then nothing at all.

* * *

_Everything was burning. The entire city seemed to have been built and raised out of flames, a ceaseless, raging inferno that threatened to swallow them whole. The ground beneath his feet was hot, covered in ash and soot and burning embers. He could no longer see the sky, so thick was the smoke and the fire. It felt as though his armor would boil off of him, air filters clogged in seconds. Tyger Pax was being reduced to cinders and the battle had barely begun._

"_Keep moving!" Onslaught barked, cutting the path for them. Brawl was right at his heels, turning every so often to check that the others were still there. It was impossible to see all of them through the smoke, but he had to have faith that they were still there. Vortex was the closet, running alongside the tank as they swept through the streets, rifles ready for an Autobot ambush._

_The attack had been a complete surprise, taking all of them off guard. The way the Autobots fought had given Onslaught the impression that they hadn't been expecting it either. Perhaps it was the ferocity of the assault that shocked them all; how many were still burning from the initial strike? How many more would burn with the city before the inferno ran out of fuel?_

_Finally, Onslaught led them out of the raging fire and into a relatively clear spot. The fire would overtake them before long, but for the moment, they rested, clearing their vents and cooling their armor. Brawl looked back, seeing that the seven other Decepticons they had been with were all accounted for. He only knew three of them by name, each of them from a different strike team or group. They had all gotten separated during the first attack, and had immediately attached to Onslaught's unit when they were found. _

_Behind them, the fire began to catch up, black smoke pouring out of the building they were sheltered near. Onslaught had his head bowed, one hand clamped over his audial receptor, and Brawl knew he was trying to pick up a signal. The tactician nodded to himself a few times, before straightening up and looking over at his makeshift team._

_"We're regrouping up at the Summit," he said, louder than necessarily. He had become accustomed to shouting in order to being heard, especially on the battlefield. "We don't know what the Autobots are up to, but we're not going down without a fight."_

_There was a collective outcry of agreement, all of the assembled mechs either nodding or hefting their weapons. Vortex ribbed Brawl, flipping up his visor and releasing his battle mask to grin at his comrade._

"_Ten cubes of high grade say my body count's higher than yours," the flier bribed, and Brawl considered._

"_You're on," Brawl laughed. "Besides, you're already behind! I nailed the sniper on the way out of the warehouse, remember?"_

"_That just motivates me all the more!" Vortex laughed along with the tank, but their conversation was cut short when Onslaught stood to move them out. The flier's visor and mask snapped back into place, and he trotted after his Commander, Brawl in tow. The other 'Cons grouped behind them, keeping in a tight-knit formation that ensures they were all covered. Onslaught slowed their pace when a firefight could be heard up ahead, and they all crouched low. They didn't want to wind up on the wrong side of the battlefield, after all._

_Onslaught brought them to a halt, all of them dropping flat on the ground with one signal from his hand. The tactician motioned to one of the mechs that Brawl did not know, and he got up and scurried off, scouting ahead. This was the part that Brawl hated the most: sitting and waiting when there was a battle not 100 yards away. After an agonizing few minutes, the mech trotted back into sight, stooping to avoid being a target. He dropped down next to Onslaught, relaying what he'd seen._

"_We're behind the Autobots," the tactician said, twisting to face the rest of the team. "Rampage, take your teammates up the nearest street, it will take you to the others so you can assist them. I want everyone else with me. There are three known snipers up above, the rest are either gunners or shock troops. Vortex, the snipers are yours. Ground troops are fair game. Brawl, try to save some for the rest of us."_

_Onslaught did not wait for acknowledgement, already getting to his feet. Rampage took off with two of the others, vanishing into the smoke. _

"_Ten cubes," Vortex reminded his comrade, breaking off from the rest of the group so he could transform. Brawl nodded, turning his attention back to his Commander as Vortex rose into the air and out of sight. Their wager was hollow, and done only out of tradition and morale boosting. There was no longer any high grade to be bartered or exchange, as it was a luxury lost to them along with so many of their teammates. _

_Onslaught stopped them again, and they all took cover wherever they could, the Autobots within range. Brawl felt his mech fluid pumping in his lines, the promise of a bloody battle making him twitchy. His Commander held them in position long enough for all of them to count their enemies' numbers and memorize their positions before striking. The exact moment Onslaught raised his hand to order the attack, fire erupted behind them, and half of them were thrown forward from the force of the explosion. _

_The Autobots they had been stalking had apparently already called for backup, as an entire regiment of new Autobots were suddenly rushing at them. Caught in the middle and disoriented from the blast, Onslaught struggled to bring his troops to bear. Brawl was the first one to retaliate, opening fire on the new units while Onslaught started on their original targets. The other four 'Cons split between the two Combaticons, following their lead even as they were swarmed by Autobots._

_From there, everything Brawl remembered blended together in pain, rage, fire, bullets, plasma cannons and a mental tally of fallen Autobots. At some point, they lost total control of the situation, and Onslaught was driven back to Brawl's position. Their lucky break came when the 'Cons on the other side suddenly burst through, scattering Autobots in every direction._

_Above them, fire bloomed through the smoke, and Brawl could not stop himself from looking up. Vortex came crashing down on the battlefield in an impressive fireball, smashing to pieces upon impact on the ground. For some reason, Brawl felt his processors lock up at the sight, and everything else seemed to stagger to a standstill._

"This is a bad memory_," Onslaught said, startling the tank. His tone was not right, and Brawl had no recollection of his commander saying that during the battle. Time felt disjointed, as everything else started moving forward while he and Onslaught remained fixed in place. "_You know what I've told you about those_."_

"_I should forget them," Brawl said, nodding at his superior officer's oft given advice. "I should move forward."_

"Well_," Onslaught said dryly. "_In this instance, just wake up_."_

_

* * *

_

Brawl jerked out of his recharge cycle violently, sitting upright and scattering medical tools everywhere. He heard two shouts of surprise, followed by two pairs of hands pushing him flat on his back.

"I thought I told you to sedate him!" a familiar voice snapped.

"I _did_!" a second, also familiar voice responded, just as waspish. "I think you're forgetting who we're dealing with here!"

The tank laid still, four hands resting on his shoulders. They were not applying any pressure, but were merely reminding him that he shouldn't be sitting up anytime soon. There was a dull, stabbing pain coming from his side, and he struggled to figure out what could have caused that. He had been in a battle, but Tyger Pax had happened a long time ago. After a moment, his systems finally caught up with the sensory input, and Brawl looked up at Scrapper and Hook.

"That hurt," Brawl said simply, referring to the grenade that had gone off under his armor. It must not have been fully charged or armed; otherwise he assumed he would be dead. The two Constructicons exchanged looks, before Hook snorted.

"I'm sure it did," Hook sneered, dropping his hands and moving out of Brawl's line of sight.

"What's impressive is that you weren't torn in half," Scrapper said, also removing hands, but shifting to inspect Brawl's injured side. The Constructicon studied him intently, finger tapping against his armor as he considered the wound. "If that grenade had gone in any further, your spark would have been extinguished. Lucky for you, it only blew off the armor from your alt mode. Really, the biggest problem was putting you out."

"Putting me out?" Brawl asked, shifting enough so he could look down at what Scrapper was doing. The hole wasn't as big as he thought it would be, but he had no idea how long he'd been down for the count.

"You were on fire," Hook drawled from wherever he was in the room. "So was half the corridor."

"Oh," Brawl said. That would explain why he was jet black now. He was glad that explosion had knocked him out, because he didn't like being on fire. Using the arm of his good side, Brawl tried to brush off some of the soot, but it only caused it to smear.

"You'll be fully healed by the end of this solar cycle, or sooner," Scrapper announced, picking up a data pad that hadn't been knocked off when Brawl had woken up. His tone was not matter-of-fact, and Brawl had the distinct feeling that the Constructicon was accusing him of something.

"What happened?" Brawl asked, hoping to prevent the engineer from doing any actual accusing.

"Starscream flew headlong into an Autobot convoy," Scrapper sighed, shaking his head. The Constructicon lowered his voice somewhat, and glanced over his shoulder in an entirely paranoid manner. "The Autobots that blew you up also took out your engines. They did considerable damage before they were flushed out, and your ship went down. The pilot barely managed to land it within our territory, but the Autobots have backed off for now. The others are working on getting the ship running again, and you'll be ready to move out in a few solar cycles."

Brawl assumed that the 'others' consisted of the remaining Constructicons, Scavenger, Mixmaster, Long Haul, and –

The memory of Bonecrusher's unknown fate hit the tank like a brick wall. Under normal circumstances, Brawl would have spilled everything to them right then and there. Unfortunately, he knew they could not speak freely, considering the way Scrapper kept throwing looks over his shoulder. He _wanted_ to tell them, even if he couldn't tell them with certainty that Bonecrusher had survived. The mine sweeper had been hanging on by a thread when Brawl had gotten to him, and activating his distress beacon might have done nothing at all.

He wondered why the other Constructicons were still functioning, seeing as Starscream had not hesitated when he targeted the mine sweeper. The only reason he could fathom was that the F-22 must have realized that he needed them. For the time being, they were required to ensure the repairs of his ship and his crew. What would happen to them after that, Brawl did not know.

"Have you come in contact with the Allspark?" Scrapper asked flatly, looking back over Brawl's wound with false interest.

"No," Brawl said, then realized he was lying. It was never a good idea to lie to a Constructicon, especially when convalescing in their medical bay. "Yes. I – it was just for a few seconds. It repaired me after Mission City."

"The injuries you sustained during the fight are healing over at an accelerated rate," Scrapper said, his tone strictly professional. "This is consistent with the lasting effects of contact with the Cube."

"Uh, okay –" Brawl started when Scrapper suddenly leaned down, optic band flashing.

"_Where_ is _Bonecrusher_?" he hissed, though he was looking past the tank. Brawl thought he was looking at Hook, since that was the direction the surgeon had wandered off. "Starscream will tell us _nothing_, and you were stationed on Earth with Bonecrusher. _Tell_ _us_."

"Scrapper," Hook's tone was warning, and the engineer pulled back, angrily punching buttons on his data pad. Brawl turned his head as best he could, trying to figure out what the _hell_ was going on. He saw Hook had taken a seat at one of the work benches, but his attention was focused on the opposite wall. The tank could not see what he was looking at without being completely obvious, but he was certain now that they were being monitored. At least, the Constructicons were being monitored, which only broadcasted Starscream's distrust for them.

"If Starscream won't tell you, why should I?" Brawl growled, deciding he didn't care who heard him. Scrapper recoiled slightly, surprised at the Combaticon's tone. The tank was not happy about posing as their enemy, but he really had no other choice. He would play the part long enough to get him, and hopefully the rest of the Constructicons, back to Blackout.

"When you're fully repaired, you're to report to _Lord_ Starscream," Scrapper said tightly, before walking away from the Combaticon briskly. Brawl knew he couldn't avoid the F-22 forever, and for once, he did not look forward to his repair programs being completed. The room was fraught with tension, especially after Scrapper's emphasis on the word _Lord_. Obviously, he did not like the sound of it. And to be perfectly honest, neither did Brawl.

* * *

_A/N: Lots of Autobots were harmed in the making of this story. Thanks for the reviews!_


End file.
